Celestial Worm (Worm AU crossover)
by ack1308
Summary: Janesha of Mystal is a celestial. Not yet a god in her own right, she has managed to irritate one, and has gone on a self-imposed journey of discovery that ends up in an unexpected side-trip ... to a place called Brockton Bay.
1. Chapter 1

**Celestial Worm**

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Part One: Exile

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 _A/N 1:_ _ **Celestial Wars**_ _is a new novel series by Karen Buckeridge, which I've had the privilege of helping her to develop. It explores the idea of gods as people in their own right. Each pantheon exists in its own realm, and family lines cross from realm to realm._

 _A/N 2: Janesha is an original character for the_ _ **Celestial Wars**_ _series, but other names are either canon or actually appear in the books._

 _A/N 3: This fic beta-read by the author of_ _ **Celestial Wars**_ _._

 _A/N 4: This fic is set toward the middle of the series, well after the first novel. Spoilers will be kept to a minimum. No prior knowledge of the series is needed to understand what's going on._

 _A/N 5: The first three chapters of_ _ **Ties that Bind**_ _, the first novel in the_ _ **Celestial Wars**_ _series, can be found on Fictionpress under my username. The novel itself can be found on Amazon and Smashwords._

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 _Disclaimers:_

* * *

 _This story is a crossover set mainly in the Wormverse, which is owned by Wildbow. Thanks for letting me use both settings._

 _I will follow canon for the Wormverse as closely as I can. Some aspects of_ _ **Worm**_ _will be altered due to the interaction with_ _ **Celestial Wars**_ _. If I find something that canon does not cover, I will make stuff up. If canon then refutes me, I will revise. Do not bother me with fanon; corrections require citations._

 _I welcome criticism of my works, but if you tell me that something is wrong, I also expect an explanation of what is wrong, and a suggestion of how to fix it. Note that I do not promise to follow any given suggestion._

* * *

 **Asgard**

* * *

"—and so I hoisted him in the air with my one hand around his throat," boasted Thor. "With my other, I drew my sword and held it up so he knew what was coming." He paused to ensure that his audience—many of them youths of Asgard, but some were from other realms, coming from as far away as Yaru and Mystal—were giving his story the rapt attention that it deserved. Nearly all of them were, but one girl, a dark-skinned stripling of fifteen or sixteen in dull black, was squinting as though something about the tale gave her indigestion. He reassured himself that she was probably feeling queasy from the richness of his telling. Girls of that age probably couldn't stomach a good tale of blood and guts. Smoothing down his voluminous red beard, he continued.

"Then, with a cry of, 'This is what happens to those who disrespect the house of Odin!', I threw him into the air as easily as you might toss a scrap of meat to a dog. Then I clove him in twain with my sword, twice over. Once from head to crotch, and once through the waist. When he struck the ground in four places, his men lost all heart and fled."

Amid the gasps of wonder and awe, he heard a distinct snort from the squinting girl. Now she had him fixed with the same sort of cynical eye that Sif used on him when his excuses for staying out too late began to wear thin. He was starting to feel irritated, so he stepped forward and gave her the same glare back. "What's the matter, girl?" he asked. "The tale not to your liking?"

"The story's fine, Lord Thor," she said casually. "The trouble is, I first heard it years ago—at my great-grandmother's knee. From the way she told it, _she_ was the one who sliced and diced the guy, and made his men leave a trail of shit all the way back to the borders of the realm." She nodded toward Thor. "And don't you normally prefer a hammer to a sword, anyway?"

Thor puffed out his chest, his pride stung. "I am a warrior, girl!" he thundered. Leaning into his powerbase just a little, he caused true thunder to roll and rattle around the rafters of the longhouse. "I can use a sword if I so wish, and I have done so many times. Stand up, girl. Let me see you. Who are you, to call me a liar under my own roof?"

Slowly, the girl stood up, revealing that she was wearing black leather from neck to toe. A cape of the same colour was fastened around her neck with a gold clasp, raising a certain memory in Thor's mind. Before this could bear fruit, the girl's peers edged away from her slightly to give her a clear space, distracting him. He imagined this was to get out of the splash range of any lightning bolts he might throw at her. Not that he would. These were guests under his roof, and he would no sooner attack them than he would renounce his own godhood.

"I wasn't calling you a liar, Lord Thor," she said quietly but firmly. "I was merely pointing out that I have heard that exact tale before, word for word, but with my great-grandmother holding the sword. I am Janesha of Mystal, daughter of Tawhirimatea, granddaughter of Rabbe …" She took a deep breath. "… great-granddaughter of Armina."

The indrawn gasps made it sound as if a gentle wind had swept across the audience. No matter where they were from, almost everyone knew the fearsome reputation of Armina, Mystal's goddess of War. Outside her home realm, she was a masterful strategist who could read a battlefield like Bragi could read a scroll. Within the borders of Mystal, she literally could not lose a battle. It was her powerbase and her thrall; challenge her to any kind of battle at all, and she instantly knew how to win it. On the downside, she could not turn away from such a challenge or throw a match, no matter what she felt about her opponent.

And one more thing was known about her. Armina did not lie about her victories. She didn't need to. The record spoke for itself.

Which meant that Janesha was indeed accusing Thor of being either untruthful or forgetful. It was, in fact, both. Once, in his cups, he had repeated the tale which he'd heard before, he wasn't sure where. It made for a fine alehouse story, and his drinking comrades had asked him to repeat it so many times that he'd truly begun to think it was his own deed. Of course, now he knew whose deed it _was,_ he wouldn't be telling it any more.

On the other hand, Armina wasn't here to take him to task, but this skinny little _chit_ seemed to think that she was permitted to. Thor scowled heavily, and thunder boomed in the rafters once more. "Well, then, Janesha of Mystal, daughter of Tawhirimatea, granddaughter of Rabbe, great-granddaughter of Armina, what have your elders taught you about speaking out of turn?"

There was fear in her now, he could tell. To her credit, she refused to let it show. "I was taught to always own my words and deeds," she replied steadily. "But tell me, Lord Thor. How was I speaking out of turn, when you asked me to speak up first? Would you have preferred that I lie?"

 _Yes!_ But Thor did not speak the word. That would be more in keeping with Loki's thoughts and deeds. In fact, he wouldn't put it past his father's blood brother to have arranged this in some subtle way. Humiliating Thor like this before such young, impressionable minds would be a great prank indeed. He looked around the longhouse until he spotted Loki sitting at a table a little way away. Smirking slightly, the god of Mischief raised his mug of mead to Thor, then took a drink.

Unfortunately, Loki had not spoken the words or raised the topic, so Thor couldn't prove he was behind it. But he could deal with the little troublemaker before him. Removing the Mischief god's catspaw from the board would be satisfying in its own right, and would require Loki to find another little fool to corrupt to his cause.

"Enough with your words," he snapped. "You have disrespected me and my house. Were you a man, I would strike you down where you stand. But you are a _child._ Bow before me and offer your sincere apology in the name of the realm of Mystal, and I will allow your slight to pass."

"Yeah, as if."

The words barely had time to pass her lips before the gasps of those around her almost drowned out the buzz of conversation at the nearby tables. He stared at her. _"What?"_ His exclamation came out like a crack of thunder.

She had her hands clenched at her sides, probably to conceal their shaking. But she did not flee and she did not quail. "I didn't stutter, Lord Thor," she said as firmly as she was able. Then, as if recalling a long-ago lesson, her spine straightened. "And I was taught to stand my ground and apologise for nothing. Do what you will. Because Mystallians don't bend and we sure as shit don't break."

 _Well, she's definitely one of Avis' insane lot,_ Thor mused. Mystallians were famous—or infamous—throughout the realms for their stiff-necked pride. The only time in their tumultuous history that they had ever capitulated to the will of another realm was when Avis, their co-leader and god of Life had gotten Clarise, the daughter of the ruler of Chaos, with child. From all accounts, the liaison had taken place on a diplomatic mission and had been consensual on both sides. But Belial hadn't cared. With the entire fighting force of Chaos behind him, he had advanced on Mystal with a single demand: Avis must marry Clarise.

There was no doubt in Thor's mind that had Mystal been stronger or Chaos weaker, the answer would've been much different. However, it wasn't, and the couple were soon wed. It hadn't gone well. Less than a year later, Avis had been _exiled from his own realm_ and gone on a three-year rampage across the Known Realms, about two steps ahead of a vengeful force of Hellion Highborn lords, apparently to do with his mistreatment of his wife. Thor didn't have all the details of how Avis had sorted _that_ little problem out, but he'd come traipsing back through Asgard two years after that, with not only Clarise but also their two young daughters in tow. And Thor had always thought that _Chance_ was Mystal's god of Luck, not Avis.

By now, all the other youngsters were hissing at Janesha to shut up, to apologise, to do _anything_ to avert the wrath of Thor. She ignored them, staring back at him. Almost _daring_ him to do his worst. Of course, he couldn't do _that._ The stupid little bitch wasn't even established yet. A hit that would merely incapacitate her godly relatives until they healed would kill her stone dead, with no takebacks. And there was no way in all the realms he wanted that sort of wergild hanging over his head, or the reputation of killing a teenage girl who called him out for stealing another's glory.

"Well, bend and break _this!"_ he bellowed, and pointed to the doors. "You are henceforth banished from my hearth, my home and my _realm!_ Leave now and never return, until Ragnarok itself befalls Asgard! Thor commands it!" Thunder rolled in the echo of his voice, both within and without the longhouse.

That, and only that, caused her gaze to narrow and started the tears welling in her eyes as she stepped from between the other youngsters and started the trek toward the way out of the longhouse. Her face was set and pale, her lips pressed tightly together. It was a pity, Thor mused absently, that she hadn't thought to close her mouth like that earlier, when it counted. The tears hadn't fallen from her eyes by the time she passed him, nor did she look to the left nor to the right as she made her way toward the exit.

To be banned forever from a realm was a harsh penalty, especially for such a youthful celestial. She would grow, and she would learn what she'd done wrong, but until he decided to rescind his word, she would never be allowed back into Asgard. Still, Thor considered his actions justified. She had to learn that there were things that youngsters just didn't do, and that included calling their elders liars. In some realms, that would have _definitely_ gotten her killed.

As she reached the doors, the guards standing by opened them, allowing a gust of freezing air, dancing with snowflakes, to swirl in. Stepping forth, she descended the stairs on the outside of the longhouse, vanishing from his view. A second figure darted between the doors just before the guards closed them with a hollow _boom,_ but Thor didn't bother calling out. He knew who it was, and that it would be a waste of words.

As the conversations slowly started up again, Thor turned to the youngsters and forced himself to smile jovially. "Well, then," he boomed. "Who'd like to hear another story?"

This time, he decided, he'd make sure to tell of the deeds he _had_ performed.

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

Stomping down the steps with indignation stoking her growing anger, Janesha restrained herself from bursting back into the hall and turning Thor's mind into that of a newborn, with all the attendant lack of body control. If she thought she was in trouble now, doing that would _definitely_ get her grounded for the next eon or two. But that didn't stop it from being sorely tempting. It was best to leave now, before she acted on her impulses. She'd never liked Asgard, anyway. It was always too cold for her liking, and the gods too boastful and arrogant. Especially Thor, that _overgrown fire-bearded, thunder-stealing lying sack of—!_

"For a shifter, you're not very good at controlling your expressions," observed a calm voice from behind her. She turned fast, even though she'd recognised the voice immediately.

"Aunt Yasadan," she greeted the older woman. This was Thor's sister, though she was wearing the same Mystallian leathers as Janesha herself. Red-haired and muscular like her brother, though not as obviously bulky, Yasadan was married to Janesha's great-great-uncle Amaro. Amaro, Avis' dour twin brother, was Mystal's other co-ruler and its god of Death. "He's pissed, isn't he?" As the cold began to get to her, she reconfigured her leathers to be more insulating. The ruff of black fur at the collar was a nice touch, she thought.

"I'm afraid so," Yasadan said regretfully.

"Good. So am I."

"I can tell. Though I _can_ talk to him, if you wish …?"

"Nope." Janesha shook her head violently, causing her shoulder-length black hair to sway back and forth. Spilling from her eyes at last, the tears burned hot tracks down her frozen cheeks. The warmth didn't last for long, and she could actually feel the salty water freezing in its turn. With a thought, she evaporated them because she wanted to concentrate on the conversation. "He stole that story and we both know it. I meant every word I said."

"But he wasn't hurting anyone, and there was no need to make a fool of him in public," Yasadan pointed out gently.

"So you're on _his_ side now," Janesha snapped, her temper getting the better of her.

Yasadan raised a warning eyebrow. "Do you honestly think your grandmother's reputation so fragile that she needs _you_ to leap to her defense?"

"That's not the point." Fully aware that she'd overreacted to her aunt's words, Janesha waved her hand in a 'whatever' gesture. "Anyway, let him boot me out. I'm earning every realm-damned word of it."

"As is your right," Yasadan acknowledged. "Do you want to blood-link back home to your parents, or should I link you through to Amaro?" Concealed within her seemingly innocuous inquiry was an acknowledgement that Janesha almost certainly would not want to face her parents immediately.

Blood-links were a means for celestials related by blood to communicate and travel to one another over great distances. Having married Amaro and shared in his essence, Yasadan could blood-link with anyone of the Mystallian bloodline, just as Amaro had access to Yasadan's extended family.

As such, Yasadan's question was a subtle suggestion that Janesha would like to spend some time with her uncle before breaking the news to her parents that she'd managed to get herself _banned_ from a realm. Amaro, after all, resided in (and ruled from) Crohen, Mystal's Death City, which was all the way across the realm from Pandess, the city of Life (where Janesha and her family lived). If Yasadan requested it, Amaro would be likely to assent, and Janesha knew he would not judge her by her actions. Death held no favourites, after all.

It wasn't a bad call. As Mystal's goddess of Serenity, Yasadan was good at making little suggestions like that. However, Janesha had other ideas. "Neither," she said after a moment's thought. "I'll ride. It'll take my mind off things. Let me get my head on straight, so I'm not still all angry when I talk to them about it."

"That's wise," Yasadan said with a smile. "Are you sure you want to ride all the way? It _is_ at least a nine-month ride back to Mystal, after all." Mystallions were fast; the only things faster were certain denizens of Chaos. But realms were huge, and even the fastest riding animals in all the realms still took time to get anywhere.

Janesha shrugged. "Once I've calmed down, I'll just blood-link back home and be done with it." Not that she thought she'd be doing that at all quickly. Mystallian children had a certain bloody-mindedness inculcated in them almost from birth; it was very much a 'do or die' attitude that had stood Mystal well in the past. "I'm thinking a few weeks away from liars and idiots is just what I need right now."

"And food? How are you going to carry a few weeks' worth?" Yasadan wasn't trying to discourage her from going, Janesha was certain. She was just asking to make sure _Janesha_ had a plan of action.

Glancing down at the ground, Janesha spied a rock as big as her fist. Stooping, she took it up and held it in her hand. Concentrating on it, she willed the ice-cold stone to reconfigure into her favourite fruit. Moments later, she held a bright red apple. Biting into it, she let the sweet juice run down her throat as she chewed and swallowed. "I think I've got it handled," she observed. While the greater measure of her celestial ability ran to mind powers, she was also able to change the shape and consistency of things—including herself—to a certain degree, something she'd inherited from her father. And while she couldn't affect the weather, she'd always been able to tell what it was going to be like at any one time, so she'd know when to build a shelter and when to keep riding.

"Very true," agreed Yasadan. Taking her great-grandniece in her arms, the ex-Asgardian gave her a warm hug. "Take care of yourself, little one, and don't worry about Thor. I'll speak to him. By the time you're back home, I'll have all this sorted out."

Privately, Janesha doubted that, but she didn't voice her reservations. Thor was known to be bull-headed to a fault and he was in his home realm, which meant his thrall was in play. Yasadan, on the other hand, merely had her innate ability to calm ruffled feathers, but not her full-fledged power base to call upon. So unless Uncle Avis himself were to visit Odin (something that hadn't happened since long before she was born) and prevail upon his one-time friend to speak to Thor on Janesha's behalf, she didn't see that changing any time in the next eon or so.

"Thanks," she said out loud. "I appreciate it." Giving her great-great-aunt one last smile, she headed around the longhouse to where the two mystallions were stabled in makeshift lodgings.

Mystallions were a breed of winged horse native to Mystal. Despite the name, there were both male and female mystallions. Janesha had once spent some time trying to figure out the link between Mystallians and mystallions. Whenever a member of Mystal's nobility was nearing adulthood, a mystallion would be born, achieving riding age just when the Mystallian was ready to start learning. In addition, when a god from another realm married into the pantheon, they also found themselves with a mystallion in short order. Once bonded, rider and horse were able to pick up on each others' feelings to a certain degree, though nobody quite seemed to know how. If anyone held the key to this mystery, she'd figured, Culkin would. But when she asked Mystal's god of Knowledge about it, he'd smiled and told a story about a mortal hero who'd been granted the use of a mystallion for a short time. It was an hour later before she realised he'd given her no answer at all.

Entering the hastily-constructed building, she had to laugh out loud. The Asgardians had built the stables as they built everything else, heavy on the stone and wood and strong enough to keep out predators or attacking armies. But the purpose of stables was to let mystallions know where they were supposed to be, rather than keep them in or even protect them.

As with all denizens of the celestial realms, the winged horses were far stronger and more durable than their mortal counterparts, and would contemptuously kick to pieces any real attempt to pen them in with mere wood and stone. Some Asgardian or other, failing to understand this, had hung heavy wooden gates across the stall entrances. One gate had been smashed off its hinges and was now embedded in the stone wall opposite, with a single perfect hoof-print in the centre of the gate to explain how it got there. The other had apparently been torn from its mountings by something that left a bite-mark deeply impressed in the iron-hard wood, then shaken to pieces; there were bits of wood _everywhere_. It didn't surprise Janesha at all that the gouges in the wood matched a horse's teeth exactly.

"Wow, we just can't leave you alone for a moment, can we?" she asked, the sight of the wrecked gates having improved her mood somewhat. Both mystallions looked innocently back at her from their stalls though her own mount, the fiery-tempered Cloudstrike, seemed to be discreetly spitting splinters on to the floor of the stable. The mare's ears pricked forward and she nickered eagerly, perhaps picking up on her rider's desire to be out of this place.

Her good mood returning in full, Janesha took Cloudstrike's bridle from its peg and held it out invitingly. "Want to go for a ride, girl? Huh?"

Cloudstrike definitely knew the word 'ride'. She let out a trumpeting whinny that would've still been deafening if Janesha had been outside and fifty metres upwind. As it was, Janesha had to reconfigure her ears to get over the ringing in them after the echoes died away. She put her hands over her ears and gave her mount a dirty look. Cloudstrike nickered again, looking amused, and nosed at the bridle.

"Yeah, yeah, so funny," Janesha muttered, and held out the apple to her equine friend. As Cloudstrike crunched on the treat, she slid the bridle on to the mystallion's head. Then she saddled up her mystallion and led her from the stables. Cloudstrike had a palomino's colouring, with wingfeathers that showed blue below and a cloudy grey above. In bright sunlight, her golden coat could be seen to positively glow.

There was none of that here, of course. During the winter in Asgard, Sól could be scarcely roused from her bed before late morning, and some days she refused to get up at all. Even in the summer, the light she shed was at best pale and watery. And this definitely wasn't summer.

Poising herself, Janesha vaulted lightly into the saddle, very carefully not looking over to see if her great-great-aunt was impressed. Among her Mystallian peers, it was fine to show off, but you weren't supposed to _acknowledge_ that you were showing off. And if you happened to screw up _while_ showing off, nobody let you forget it. This was why she'd practised the move assiduously before ever trying it in public.

Safely in the saddle, she waved to Yasadan then looked up at the lowering sky. She'd flown at night before, but never in such chilly conditions. More snow was on the way, she judged. If she waited much longer, it would be too cold for even the hardy Cloudstrike to fly properly. But it was either that or admit defeat and blood-link back to Mystal in a single step.

 _Screw that. Thor can kiss my ass._ Shaking out her reins, she dug her boot-heels into Cloudstrike's ribs. "Hyah! Let's go!"

The mystallion responded eagerly, unfurling her great wings and bringing them down in a thunderclap of wind. That one wingbeat served to launch them skyward in a flurry of snowflakes. When next Janesha looked down, Yasadan was a dwindling dot, far below. Upward they spiralled, Janesha wanting to get above the clouds. It would be colder up there, but there would be less in the way of snow to obscure their vision.

Before they entered the cloud layer itself, Janesha formed a hood and scarf from the Mystallian leathers, bringing it close around her head with snow-goggles across her eyes. Thus attired, she had no exposed skin for when they swept into the freezing clouds. Still, the chill struck at her with a vengeance, forcing her to fortify her body against the icy cold. Beneath her, Cloudstrike's wingbeats never faltered, driving them ever upward.

By the time they burst into the upper air, Janesha found there was a thin layer of ice crystals coating her arms and legs, with more glinting in Cloudstrike's coat. Tiny stalactites formed and then broke away from the mystallion's wingfeathers, while her mount's exhalations formed huge clouds of vapour that flowed back around them like tiny versions of the clouds below them.

If she'd thought it was cold at ground level, that was nothing compared to the chill at this altitude. Mentally, she calculated the time it would take to fly all the way across Asgard toward Mystal, and conceded that neither she nor Cloudstrike would be able to make it in one flight. Too many more hours of this, and they would freeze to death in mid-air, or simply freeze solid altogether. Yet her pride demanded that she _not_ let Thor win, driving her back to Mystal with her metaphorical tail between her legs.

 _Of course._ Why she hadn't thought of this before, she didn't know … well, yes, she did. There was another way out of the conundrum, but it involved doing something she'd never thought of doing before. Thor's longhouse was all the way across Asgard from Mystal for a good reason: monsters from the Unknown Realms invaded Asgard on a semi-regular basis, and Thor always liked a good fight. Asgard's border with the unmapped region was barely ten minutes away by air. Once across said border, they'd be out of the biting cold, and she'd be able to plot a better course then. Of course, this did mean that they'd actually have to _cross_ the border and leave the Known Realms, at least for a little while.

The big problem with entering the Unknown Realms was the fact that no pantheons held sway there. There was also danger to be found there, of course. For an unestablished celestial, anywhere and everywhere held the risk of injury or even death. But it was no more dangerous than many of the settled Realms, and less so than some (in some Realms, the ruling pantheon _was_ the danger). However, if a traveller in the Unknown Realms encountered trouble, there was nobody around to help. Once a pantheon carved out a realm and established their names, they automatically became part of the Known Realms. Absent that, an unwary traveller could run into _anything_ out there.

Still, the slight chance of trouble was better than the very real peril of freezing to death. Gently, she tugged on one of the reins, bringing Cloudstrike around in a long, swooping turn. "Ten minutes, girl," she said, leaning forward in the saddle. "And then we're warm again."

Cloudstrike's expressive snort was matched by an increase in the frequency of her wingbeats; more ice crystals exploded into their wake. The mystallion accelerated toward the promised warmth, provoking a whoop of exhilaration from her teenage rider.

* * *

Crossing from one Realm into another was not a common experience. If celestials wanted to travel, they usually blood-linked to a relative in the realm they were bound for. It made for fast, efficient travel, without all that boring _going_ from one place to another. For this trip, just as an example, Aunt Yasadan had blood-linked to Thor, and brought Janesha along for the trip. Their mystallions had been included in the deal, because no son or daughter of Mystal left their steeds behind if there was the slightest chance they'd need them.

The border with the Unknown Realms, therefore, looked strange to Janesha as she and Cloudstrike approached it. Instead of the bitterly-cold night sky, it seemed to reflect sunset colours, spread across the horizon before them. Janesha hung on as the boundary leaped toward them, not knowing what sort of a jolt was in store. Would they fall from the sky, or just plain hit a wall?

As it turned out, neither outcome was what happened. One instant they were arrowing through sub-freezing temperatures and the next they were soaring over rolling, tree-clad hills. The temperature change was almost shocking in its suddenness, and Janesha quickly found that her insulated leathers were now far too warm for the new climate. She dispelled the hood and goggles, bringing the leathers back to their normal thickness and warmth. Under her, Cloudstrike whinnied loudly in triumph as the last of the ice crystals on her wings cracked and fell away. Now she was spraying tiny droplets of water with every wing-beat, as moisture condensed on her super-cooled wingfeathers, only to be flicked off again.

"We did it!" whooped Janesha, waving her fist in the air. As an afterthought, she turned the gesture into a middle finger directed at Asgard behind her. "And screw you too, Thor!"

Now came the moment of truth; to turn left or right before skirting the border of Asgard on their way back to Mystal? It really didn't make a difference, she decided. Either way, she'd likely still be following the border when she finally got sick of travelling on her own and decided to blood-link straight home.

And that was when she had the Idea. As with all capital-I Ideas, it initially seemed like a good one, only revealing a certain level of poor judgement after the fact. If she was going to be spending all this time in the Unknown Realms, she figured, why not explore a bit?

"How about it, Cloudstrike?" she asked out loud. For the moment they were just gliding, enjoying the feeling of the warm wind across their faces, so she could speak to her mount without shouting. "Up for a little ride into uncharted territory? See what's really out there? Have an adventure or two before we go home?"

Cloudstrike tossed her head and whinnied in agreement. It seemed she was just as interested in the idea as Janesha. Then again, it wasn't altogether surprising. Mystallions were very close in temperament to their riders, so if Janesha thought it was a good idea to venture forth into the unknown, Cloudstrike was almost guaranteed to agree.

* * *

 **Three Weeks Later**

* * *

"So what do you say, Cloudstrike?" Janesha asked as she stood up from the comfortable mattress she'd created from a fallen tree. "Time to head home yet, or should we make it four weeks?" It had been an interesting and educational time for her. She'd never spent this much time alone before, and had taken the opportunity to think over the clash with Thor in some detail. With some thought on the matter, she figured she knew where she'd gone wrong, and how she should have approached the subject. Not making her derision plain would've been a good start.

Nor had she spent all the time inside her own head. She and Cloudstrike had dropped into the mortal realm from time to time, just to see what the stars and galaxies looked like when gods weren't making reality play tricks for their own amusement. They'd cruised past magnificent ringed planets and watched gigantic stars explode in slow motion. Janesha had spent a whole hour watching a purple slug-like thing wriggle painfully out of a methane ocean.

The sheer relentless drive of its tiny mind reminded her a little of the Mystallian way of life, and she'd taken the time to mark it (and its descendants) with the Mystallian sigil that adorned the back of her cape, a mystallion rearing with widespread wings. The fact that Mystallians would likely never visit that particular planet ever again hadn't even bothered her.

Pausing in her methodical demolishing of a nearby bush, Cloudstrike snorted and tossed her head. It seemed to Janesha that the mystallion was a little homesick, just as she herself was, but both were also reluctant to bring the endless vacation to an end. Also, Janesha wasn't overly looking forward to the chewing out she was going to get from her father over being banned from a nominally-friendly realm.

"So maybe another day or two then?" Janesha paused to give herself a stimulation wave; her shapeshifting went through her entire body, including her leathers, to reset everything back to scratch. Her hair went from bed-head to perfectly brushed, her eyes were clear, teeth were clean, and her leathers were smooth and polished. Shifter powers were _so_ useful.

As she laid her hand on Cloudstrike to give her mount the same treatment, the mystallion nickered in agreement. Janesha reformed the lead-rope and peg that had tethered Cloudstrike to the ground overnight back into the bridle. Her pillow and blankets reconfigured into Cloudstrike's saddle at a touch, and soon they were ready to travel on.

The whole thing about the Unknown Realms was that they had no boundaries. In the mortal plane, the average realm consisted of many billions of galaxies, which mystallions could traverse in a matter of hours. Up on the celestial plane, she travelled across various types of terrain; wooded hills, swamps, mountains, deserts and so forth. These didn't matter all that much. If a celest decided to claim a section for a Realm and stayed long enough to become attuned to it, it would then begin to reshape itself to his needs and desires. So, too, would the mortal plane beneath.

Which made what she saw several hours later all the more strange. Off in the distance, she saw a boundary. Or if not a boundary, then a terrain type she'd never seen before. Turning Cloudstrike toward the line on the horizon, she felt a frisson of excitement. Was this a newly claimed Realm, in the midst of the Unknown Realms? All the pantheons she'd ever heard about were well-established; this was definitely something new.

New, it certainly was. Also, bizarre. As they neared the border, she slowed her pace, to give any guards the chance to challenge them, but none appeared. Even stranger than that was the terrain within the new Realm. It seemed to be angular and crystalline. In some places, it even seemed to be alive and pulsating with odd lights. Strange swirls looked deeper than they really should, indicating that it extended elsewhere in a way that would cause a normal mortal physicist to give up and get very drunk.

Looking around with interest, Janesha guided Cloudstrike over the border into the new Realm. She didn't feel like landing on the odd terrain, and she got the impression that Cloudstrike had similar reservations. They wouldn't venture too far into it, she decided. If they met the new inhabitants, she would greet them in the name of Mystal, then politely leave without touching foot to ground.

Still, that didn't mean some of the larger crystal formations weren't interesting. Reacting to her slightest touch, Cloudstrike banked in a graceful turn then swooped down to glide alongside one specimen that had to be forty feet tall. Deep within it, rainbow lightning arced back and forth in a fascinating pattern.

There was another crystalline formation, almost as tall as the first, with a narrow gap in between. Janesha urged Cloudstrike onward, eager to see what this crystal would display in its depths.

From between the two monoliths, a dark form lunged with a deep-throated roar. Cloudstrike reared, screaming in fear and pain as razor claws lashed across her flank. Caught unawares, with a stinging pain in her left leg, Janesha was thrown from the saddle, flailing in midair.

 _What's that?_ Her mind kicked into high gear, calling on her celestial abilities. While she was internalising like this, the physical world was effectively on hold while she mustered her resources to analyse the threat. _Talot. Has to be a feral one._ Talot were a monstrous beast found here and there in the Realms. In Mystal, they were carefully husbanded for hunts, whereas Asgard considered them dangerous beasts that destroyed everything before them. _Bilge-something or other. Doesn't matter now_. Janesha hadn't known there were wild ones out there. This one must have found the new Realm and decided to take up residence there.

She was falling. Cloudstrike, blood running down her flank from the Talot's ambush strike, was climbing for altitude. There wasn't time to mend the gashes in her leg before she hit the ground, and from the way she was falling she would hit _hard._ The Talot wasn't in her line of sight, which meant she couldn't lock it down before it attacked her again. And if the fall knocked her out, it could kill her at its leisure. There was only one real viable option. _Cloudstrike, I hope you can find me before it does._

She restarted time and pushed herself through into the mortal plane. _This is gonna suck._

* * *

 **Brockton Bay  
Wednesday, January 19, 2011  
Danny Hebert**

* * *

With a grimace at the squeal of metal on metal— _one more thing to fix with this damn car—_ Danny slowed the vehicle to a halt, then set the parking brake. Picking up the new digital camera from the front seat, he climbed out of the car and shut the door.

He hated leaving Taylor alone like this, but the new proposal had a fast-approaching deadline, and she spent most of her time sleeping now anyway. His blood boiled all over again as he recalled the condition she'd been in when she came out of the locker. They'd cleaned her up in the hospital, but she still looked fragile, as if she'd break like glass at a touch. And of course he couldn't sue the damn school. They'd unbent just far enough to pay Taylor's medical bills, under the agreement that he wouldn't hold them criminally liable for what had happened to her under their care. But if he could convince the Mayor's office to release enough funds to clean up the mess that was once Lord's Port and was now the Boat Graveyard, the Dockworkers would be a going concern once more. That would give him the personal funds to sue the school into the bedrock with a civil case as opposed to criminal.

The idea, of course, was to take photos that would convince hard-nosed bureaucrats to loosen their grip on money that they'd already decided to disburse elsewhere. Being somewhat of a hard-nosed bureaucrat himself—by occupation, not by choice—Danny figured he had maybe a thirty percent chance of making his case. But it was for Taylor, so he was determined to give it the old college try.

Just as he raised the camera, trying to get the old rusting cranes in the shot with the nearest half-sunken ship, he became aware of a new sound. It was coming from up in the air, and he swivelled to look. His eyes widened, and he almost instinctively took a picture of the screaming form that plummeted toward the ground, surrounded by an odd glow.

The impact knocked him off his feet; an echoing _BOOOM_ rolled across the oil-polluted water. Slowly, he climbed to his feet, surprised to find himself still holding his camera. About fifty feet away, the cracked and dirty concrete slabs had been shattered into a crater ten feet deep. Head still ringing from the noise, he clambered up the low berm of debris that had been thrown up. Lying in the middle of the crater, wearing a black form-fitting costume and a cape of the same colour, was a teenage girl with dusky skin and shoulder-length black hair. She appeared to be unconscious, which didn't surprise him. She also seemed to be alive, which did.

"Well, crap," he said out loud. "What do I do now?"

* * *

End of Part One


	2. Chapter 2

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Two: Establishing Credentials

* * *

 _[A/N 1: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]_

* * *

 **Danny**

* * *

Even from where he was, Danny could see the bleeding gashes on the girl's leg. Worse, her arm was bent in a place where arms normally don't bend, with a shard of white bone protruding through the black costume. Fortunately, he was fairly sure he could also see the rise and fall of her back under the cape that was draped untidily over her. Which meant she was alive, even after a crash-landing that left a crater in the dockside he could've parked an RV in.

Tucking the camera away in his pocket, he skirted around the raised berm until he found a spot he could climb over. _What am I even doing?_ he asked himself. The answer was simple; rendering aid. She didn't look any older than Taylor, and if _she_ ever ended up as a cape and got hurt in a fight (God forbid), he hoped that some other good Samaritan would help her out.

He was just beginning to clamber between two uptilted slabs when an odd sensation made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. There was a crackling hiss and he looked up to see a monstrous creature dragging itself through a hole in space, about twenty feet above the ground. Around the edge of the hole, pale purple lightning was arcing in all directions, dissipating into the air or grounding in the concrete below.

"What the—" he began, but he hadn't even finished speaking before it dragged itself all the way through and dropped to the ground. Or rather, on to his car, which was directly beneath it. Any hope that it was lighter than it looked died instantly, along with the car. There was a rending crash, then the creature stalked forward. It left the car with its roof crushed in, the chassis crumpled and all four wheels either splayed outward or burst from the excess of pressure.

The size of a rhino but with a far higher proportion of claws, teeth, horns and just plain _sharp bits_ protruding from its sleek black scaly hide, it looked like nothing he'd ever seen before. A long whip-like tail, waving in the air, sported bony blades not far from the end. _Where the hell did_ _ **that**_ _thing come from?_ he wondered. _Earth Aleph? Or is it a cape projection of some kind?_ Then it raised its lizardlike head and sniffed the air.

For a horrified moment he thought it had smelled him, even as he crouched down behind a slab to escape its attention. But as it topped the rim of the crater, its glowing red eyes were fixed on the helpless girl lying in the centre of the depression. _Please be a pet, please be a pet, please be a pet,_ he prayed.

A grinding crunch signalled one of the slabs that had blocked his way being shoved aside almost effortlessly. The _thing_ sidled down into the pit, almost _oozing_ from step to step, sniffing the air and watching the girl with unblinking eyes. Danny had a bad feeling about this. Almost without his conscious volition, he reached down to the rubble-littered ground. One hand closed around a chunk of concrete, while the other found a piece of rebar.

By the time he straightened up, the creature was poised over the girl. Slowly, its jaws opened, exposing even _more_ teeth to the air. It pulled its head back, ready to lunge downward—

"Hey!" Danny heard the yell, and realised it was him. His hand stung from the force of his throw. As the creature raised its head at the sound, the chunk of concrete bounced off its head right about where its ear should be.

Almost as if it couldn't believe what had happened, the beast turned slowly and fixed its crimson gaze upon him. Warned by some obscure instinct, he ducked just before the whip-tail whistled over his head. The bone blade bit deep into the concrete slab beside him, right where his head would've been. Coming up with the rebar, he swung it two-handed, striking the tail-blades and shattering one. The creature roared in what he hoped was the sort of pain that would make it retreat.

No such luck. The monster yanked its tail free of the concrete, leaving part of the blade behind, but that didn't hamper it at all. It started moving toward him, vicious intent showing clearly in its glowing eyes. He raised the rebar again, seeing the deep scar in the steel where the bone blade had gouged it. _The bone cut the steel? What the_ _ **hell**_ _?_

As it neared him, he took a careful step back, then a second one. "Back off, whatever the fuck you are," he said, trying to sound confident. "I _will_ beat the fuck out of you with this." In all honesty, he was beginning to doubt his ability to do that, but he'd gotten out of more than one fight with the judicious use of bravado in the past.

Unfortunately, either the beast didn't respond to bravado, or it could tell just how scared he was underneath it. Whichever it was, he swung the bar more by instinct than design when it lunged forward, smashing the bar against its nose. With a bone-shaking growl, it darted its head forward a second time, snapping its teeth closed on the bar. To his horror, its gleaming teeth tore through the steel with a grinding shriek, leaving him holding a foot-long stub of metal with a shiny-smooth section where it had been severed. The red eyes glowed even more brightly as it spat out the mangled metal, then moved even faster than it had before. Danny fell backward on to his ass, but it followed him anyway. Just before the fangs reached him, he clenched his eyes shut. He had just enough time for a single thought to crystallise in his mind.

 _I'm sorry, Taylor._

Hot breath washed over his face, making him gag then realise he wasn't actually dead. As he moved his head, sharp points dug into his forehead and under his jaw. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, to find himself looking directly into the gullet of the monster. Its breath came again, redolent of a gust of wind from a slaughterhouse manned by zombies. It didn't seem to be biting his head off, despite its very obvious capability to do just that, so he shuffled himself backward until he was no longer breathing its foetid exhalations.

"Oh, you're alive," said the girl, who was now standing alongside the creature with one hand grasping a body spike. For its part, it didn't seem to be reacting to her, to him, or to anything really. It was frozen in mid-lunge, not even moving its eyes. "I'm kind of impressed, actually. There's crap-all mortals who've come face to face with a talot, even a cub like this one, and survived to tell the tale."

Danny breathed deeply, trying to get his hammering heart back under control. Almost dying had that effect on him. Though there were a lot of things trying to get his attention right now. Such as how the girl, who had been unconscious and badly injured just moments ago, was up and around now. And why the creature was just … _frozen_ there.

"T … Talot?" he ventured. "What's a talot?" Part of his brain clicked into gear and he focused on her. _Costume. Duh._ "You're a cape!" he blurted. "Is that how you're doing this?"

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

Janesha snapped awake to see the hindquarters of the talot and hear its frustrated growls. She didn't bother wondering what it was growling at; dealing with the current threat seemed the best idea right then. Restoring herself to full health with a stimulation wave, she sat up and latched on to its animal consciousness, then told it to _freeze!_ As a junior member of the ruling house of Mystal, her ranged mind-bending abilities were easily sufficient to dominate a talot's brain, so it obeyed her order even though she'd checked it in mid-lunge.

 _Well, that was easier than I thought it'd be,_ she decided as she climbed to her feet. _Wonder what had it distracted._ Just as she took hold of a body spike preparatory to using her shapeshifting on it, she heard a shuffling noise. A tall, thin, balding man came into sight ahead of its muzzle, wearing the shell-shocked expression that anyone would have in his position. Anyone apart from a Mystallian, she amended silently.

She was impressed, and she told him so. Mystallians tended to hunt talot in the celestial plane. If the hunt went to the mortal plane, they confined the revelries to uninhabited planets or the space between stars. As a result, very few mortals ever laid eyes on one. Which was a good thing for mortals, because a single adult talot would slaughter a mortal city in less than an hour. Especially since they were thirty to forty times the size of this cub.

After swapping out her ranged mind control of the talot with her touch shapeshifting, she went into the mortal's mind with the intent of wiping the knowledge of her existence from his mind. But as she casually looked over the last few minutes of his memory to find out how much he'd seen of her arrival, what she saw changed her mind. "By the Twin Notes," she breathed. "You've either gotta be stone-cold nuts or have a brass set the size of Uncle Griffith's. Who the _fuck_ throws a rock at a _talot?"_ Then she got to the bit about how he'd hit it with a metal bar. She knew full-well that it could've stood still while he belaboured it with that bar, and he would only have chipped its horns a little. But that didn't change the fact that he'd actually _fought_ it to save her life, and _succeeded._ He definitely had manly bits worthy of a celestial. In fact, they deserved their own _event horizon._

"Well, _that_ changes things a bit," she declared looking to see what his name was before she pulled out of his mind and let outside time start up again. She still had the talot under tactile control, but she knew she had to do _something_ with it. Either kill it or let it go, and letting it go was risking that it might return. Normally, killing a talot came at the end of a hunt, but these were unusual circumstances. Making her mind up, she pushed harder with her shapeshifting. It died instantly and painlessly (she wasn't a _monster,_ after all), slumping to the ground as rocks and dirt. The spike stayed in her hand, and she reshaped it into a tiny replica of the creature, rendered in platinum.

This didn't help the mortal's state of mind in any way. He sat there, blinking owlishly behind his glasses, until she stepped forward and held out her hand to help him up. "So, yeah. Thanks for helping me out, Danny. That could've been nasty."

For saving her life, he deserved a bit more of a reward than a simple thank-you, so as she easily hoisted him to his feet—as a celest in the mortal plane, her dead-lift weight was in the _tons—_ she exerted her shapeshifting once more. By the time she let his hand go, his skin was as durable as it was capable of being in this realm, as was the rest of his body. Which, she noted with some surprise, was _far_ stronger than she'd expected to be able to make him. _Who the_ _ **fuck**_ _set up this realm, and what other weird physical laws did they put in place?_ She'd be able to ignore them selectively, as was her right and capability. But that didn't mean she would be ignoring the fact of their existence. _And just wait till I get back to the Known Realms. The look on that glory-stealing blowhard's face when he hears that a_ _ **mortal**_ _stood up to a talot where any ten of his fellow Asgardians would run screaming from them …_

"I, uh … you're welcome," he said awkwardly. "I've got a daughter about your age, actually. I couldn't _not_ do something, you know?" He grimaced as he looked toward his totalled car, then an entirely different grimace crossed his face as he returned his attention to the remains of the talot. "What _was_ that thing, anyway? I think it was about half a second away from biting my face off."

"It's called a talot," she said dismissively. "They're very rare." Hopefully extinct in this realm, she amended to herself. "Here," she said, handing the statuette to Hebert. "Souvenir."

Which reminded her. During her previous excursion into Danny Hebert's mind, she'd recognised that his memories of this realm bore an uncanny resemblance to a realm run by one of her cousins. Which made no sense at all. While Earlafaol was _also_ out in the Unknown Realms, and this place _looked_ the same, there was no realm-damned _way_ she'd mistaken one realm for another. And yet, these weren't just accidental parallels. Something _weird_ was going on here.

The only way to resolve this was to go back in. Diving into his memories, she got an idea of the local planetary geography and what language he spoke, both of which fitted with Earlafaol. The nearby buildings and constructions only bore out the resemblance even more.

However, despite the physical similarities, there was one glaringly easy way to tell that this wasn't Earlafaol. Janesha had visited her cousin a couple of times, and there were _always_ a few members of her family in the realm somewhere. Celestials always had a distant awareness of any blood relatives within the same realm, in an 'I know you're there but not exactly where or who you are' kind of sense. The pings of familial contact just weren't here, so although this _looked_ like her cousin's realm, it wasn't. The fact that the crystalline landscape she'd seen on the celestial plane had no resemblance to the unsettled (though normal) terrain of Earlafaol simply bore out her conclusion.

 _So why does_ _ **here**_ _look so much like_ _ **there**_ _?_ She dived deeper into his mind, irritated that her laziness on the first two passes necessitated doing the same thing over again. This time, she really _looked_ at the information she was getting.

 _Planet's called Earth … Bet? Okay … that kind of fits?_

 _Country's called United States. That fits._

 _Country to the north is Canada, to the south is Mexico. That sounds about right._

 _City is called Brockton Bay. Never heard of it._

 _Okay, so what's a cape and why did he call me one?_

She went in search of the answer, and when she found it, it was so ridiculous and stupid that for a moment she suspected that Uncle Avis' smartass grandsons had decided to play some sort of long con on her. It had more in common, in fact, to one of the 'comic books' she'd perused during her visits to Earlafaol. She'd spent a lot of time giggling over how idiotic the 'superheroes' looked next to actual gods, and how most of the pantheon of Asgard would probably burst a collective blood vessel if they ever saw how those same comic books portrayed them.

The truly amusing thing was that because Earlafaol had been set up as a kind of embassy where all pantheons could establish power bases (unlike every other realm in existence, where the gods jealously hoarded their mortals against any interlopers) it was solely due to their efforts that these comic book writers even _knew_ about them.

But this was no longer stupid or ridiculous. She was _there,_ inside a comic-book world, face to face with a mortal who actually lived here.

When she emerged from his head, she immediately felt the mental pressure that indicated an incoming blood-link. Janesha's mother had been checking on her at odd intervals over the last few weeks and she'd been careful not to give her parent the excuse to delve into her mind and find out where she really was. However, Yasadan had probably told her of the self-imposed three-week time limit, and she'd reached that today.

 _If she finds out where I am, she'll want to yank me home straight away. I don't want to go. I've still got to find Cloudstrike._ And once she did _that,_ there was a mystery here, and she intended to get to the bottom of it. And even after she sorted everything else out, there was still the fact that she'd just found an unattended Realm, fully stocked with semi-trained mortals and no apparent gods running things. Basically, it was the equivalent to handing a mortal teenager an unlimited charge card and letting them loose inside a multi-level shopping mall …

 _Nobody's gonna blame me if I indulge in a little 'me' time, after all._

Thinking fast, she turned so that one of the concrete slabs was behind her, then reached back and changed its consistency to granite, with a little ice sheened over it. Asgard had plenty of granite and even more ice; she knew _that_ for a fact. As an afterthought, she changed her uniform back to the cold-weather version she'd been using each time she spoke to her mother, to foster the illusion of still being in Asgard. _Good thing I'm not trying this on Aunt Clarise. She'd see through me in an instant._

The mortal called 'Danny Hebert' went to speak, but she reached out and put a finger to his lips in a 'shush' directive. Then she accepted the blood-link. The image of her mother appeared before her. "Hi, Mom," she said brightly. "How are things at home?"

"Oh, we're fine," her mother replied, a single wrinkle of concern marring her brow. "Why haven't you blood-linked home yet? It's _been_ three weeks."

Janesha worked to maintain the facade of being an undecided teenager. "I dunno, Mom. It's nice out here with just me and Cloudstrike, and I guess I'm still a bit pissed off at that red-headed asshole." Which was also true, though she was far more worried about Cloudstrike than that pretentious blowhard of a thunder god, right then.

"You do realise that if Thor realises you're still in Asgard, he's going to make it his mission to find you, right?" Her mother's tone was concerned.

"Don't _worry,_ Mom." She made her tone as light and cheerful as she could. "I've got it handled. He'll never find me, and even if he does, I'll …" … _make him think he's a gerbil and escape while he's trying to figure out how to lick his own butt …_ "… just zip home straight away. Anyway, did Aunt Yasadan tell you what he _said?"_

Her mother sighed. "Yes, as you have reminded me. _Repeatedly._ But what's done is done. It's not as if he issued your grandmother with a challenge …"

Janesha snorted. "Wish he had. Then he'd find out what a _real_ war was like. Anyway, thanks for checking in but as you can see, I'm fine. Gotta go, love you lots, bye." Without giving her mother a chance to protest, she dropped the blood-link then reverted her winter clothing to normal and let out a small sigh of relief. _Still got it_.

When she looked next at Danny Hebert, he had his arms folded and one eyebrow raised. She recognised Parent Mode straight away; even coming from a mortal, it got her attention. "So, where are you supposed to be?" he asked. "Remember, I've got a teenage daughter too, and I know a verbal two-step when I see one."

 _Busted._ Only one excuse came to mind. "Uh, gotta go look for Cloudstrike." Before he could say another word, she stepped straight into the celestial realm.

* * *

 **Danny**

* * *

Danny opened his mouth, then closed it again. _Well, that happened._ He studied the metal statuette in his hands. It snarled in horrifying likeness to the creature that had nearly killed him, right down to the needle-sharp fangs. With a shudder, he looked away from it at the slab of concrete which was now made of granite and covered with melting ice. Whoever that girl was, he decided, she was the most powerful cape he'd ever heard of, except for the Triumvirate and Scion. It was an article of faith, of course, that those four were the benchmark against whom all other capes were measured.

Still, she wasn't much weaker than any of them. She'd survived an impact that would've pulverised a normal person, turned a monster into dirt and platinum, and changed concrete to rock and ice. And, of course, simply vanished in front of him. Teleportation or invisibility? Teleportation, he decided. Turning invisible was great for dramatic departures, or so cape soaps would have him believe, but then she would've had to sneak away down a slope consisting mainly of crushed concrete. And with everything else she could do, he was quite willing to believe that she could teleport as well. _Not to mention she's got access to some kind of Tinkertech bluetooth videophone, based on that call with her mom. Or maybe her team leader. Teenagers have been known to be sarcastic from time to time, after all._

Still holding the statuette of the … 'talot', he descended into the crater and began to climb out the other side. The thing had moved one of the slabs so he didn't have to go the long way around, but when he got to the rim, it became painfully obvious that he had no need to hurry. The car was just as much of a wreck as he'd thought when the beast first arrived. He'd be taking the bus home for sure.

Heaving a gusty sigh, he went over to the car and crouched down to try to access the glovebox. He didn't need to open the door, as all four had sprung open with the impact, as had the hood and trunk. The interior of the vehicle now had a vertical space of about two feet, of which he could use six inches to open the glovebox. At first he thought the latch was jammed but with just a little effort, the whole thing fell off into the footwell. _Huh, the damage must've been worse than I thought_. All the paperwork pertaining to the car was in there, and he shoved it into the inside pocket of his jacket. Though how he was going to claim 'a monster fell on my car and destroyed it' for the insurance payout, he wasn't sure. There probably wasn't a form for that.

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

Stepping in from the mortal realm, Janesha found herself in a forest of those crystals. Odd ghost-like shapes slowly moved within each one, but she was more interested in getting out into the open and finding Cloudstrike. The edges of the crystals looked sharp, and she wasn't okay with the idea of getting her blood on them. There was more to them, she was certain, than a fancy light show.

"Cloudstrike!" she called out in the hope of getting an immediate answer. None came, which probably meant the mystallion was circling around to come in from another direction. Or that she'd given up on Janesha already, but that was exceedingly unlikely. Mystallions were intensely loyal, even in the face of death.

Moving with a certain amount of care, she eased her way out from between the crystals. Just as she got into the clear, she heard a distant whinny. "Cloudstrike!" she called again; she would've known that sound anywhere. "Here, girl! I'm here!" Raising her fingers to her lips, she let out a piercing whistle that would hopefully guide the mystallion to her.

In another moment, Cloudstrike appeared, gliding in from around a particularly massive crystalline monolith. The mystallion whinnied again, the note of relief plain in her voice. She came in for a fast landing, backwinging at the very last instant to drop her hooves to the ground beside Janesha. Then she was nuzzling Janesha's face, with anxious nickers, as if to be certain she was really there.

"Yes, yes, I'm _all right,"_ Janesha half-protested, half-laughed, running her hands over Cloudstrike's muzzle and up over her head. Ducking her shoulder in under the mystallion's chin, she put her arms around Cloudstrike's neck and held her close. "The talot's never going to hurt either one of us again. I got him _good."_

Which reminded her of Cloudstrike's injuries. Calling on her shapeshifting, she gave the mystallion the same treatment she'd given herself, healing the gashes in her flank and giving her an all-over tune-up to make her feel better. As she did this, she noticed droplets of blood that had alighted on Cloudstrike's tail and frozen in place as opposed to congealing.

"Clever girl," she said fondly, running her hands through the mystallion's mane. "You went looking for me on the mortal plane, didn't you?" It wasn't Cloudstrike's fault she hadn't found Janesha; planets were very small on the cosmic scale, after all. Janesha was sure that if she'd stayed in the same place much longer, the mystallion would've located her anyway. In fact, she was willing to bet that Cloudstrike had shown up in low orbit and had been circling the planet, looking for her. When Janesha had gone back to the celestial plane, Cloudstrike had followed.

The mystallion nickered again and nudged Janesha with the side of her head. _Come on,_ she seemed to be saying. _Why aren't you in the saddle yet?_

"All right, all right," Janesha chuckled. Taking a handful of the shining mane, she vaulted into the saddle. "You're _never_ going to believe the mortals on this world." With a simple nudge of her knees, Cloudstrike was airborne.

Janesha had an odd moment of indecision when she went to return to the mortal plane. There wasn't just _one_ such plane, she realised, but dozens of them. It seemed that whoever had set up this realm had decided he needed lots of near-identical planets in parallel realities, and the physical laws that governed the realm had rearranged themselves to allow this to happen. _Why_ he wanted it this way, she had no idea. _Maybe he's trialling different power bases?_ It was a stupid idea, but this whole _realm_ was failing to make sense on a lot of levels.

With a minor effort of will, she picked out the correct one and urged Cloudstrike forward. Between one wingbeat and the next, they were back where she'd started from. Danny Hebert now crouching next to the wreckage of his car, apparently examining the damage. _I'm kind of the reason his stuff got broken, so maybe I should fix it or something._

* * *

 **Danny**

* * *

"I could repair that for you, if you wanted." The voice was the girl's, and it came from behind and above him. Because of course she was back, just as he'd figured she'd decided to go somewhere else. Turning, he raised his arm to shield his face against the sudden wind that had sprung up. And then he saw that no, it wasn't a sudden wind. It was the downdraft from the wings of … a flying horse. That she was riding. _Because why the hell not._

"Uh, if you could, that would be great," he ventured. Right then, it didn't surprise him in the slightest that she had a _flying horse._ It might be a … a projection, that was what they were called. Or a bioTinker construct. He figured the latter was more likely, given the existence of the talot. What got him the most, though, was how matter-of-fact she was with her powers, given how young she was. Most new teenage capes were all "woo! Look what I can do!" but this girl was … pragmatic about it. Like she'd been doing it all her life.

"Well, you did save my life, so it's the least I can do," she said cheerfully. The pegasus landed on the cracked concrete with four distinct thuds, so close together that Danny could barely tell them apart. It was … beautiful. No, it was _magnificent_. A burnished-gold coat set off huge wings that were blue underneath and a murky grey above. As the girl jumped lightly out of the saddle, the beast fixed Danny with the most intelligent gaze an animal had ever turned on him. _I'm watching you,_ it seemed to be saying. The wings folded away alongside the flying horse's flank, more neatly than he would've imagined.

"Nice, uh, nice pegasus," he said, for want of a better thing to say. "What's its name?"

" _Her_ name is Cloudstrike, and she's not a pegasus, she's a mystallion," the girl said absently, stepping up alongside him to study the wreck. "Wow, cars and talots don't mix well, do they?" She seemed to find the observation funnier than he did.

"No, they don't." He stole another glance at Cloudstrike. The pegasus— _no, she's a_ _ **mystallion**_ _—_ was still eyeing him suspiciously. He thought it was a little odd to call a female pegasus a name with 'stallion' as part of it, but he wasn't about to correct a superhero on her terminology. _Your flying horse, you can call her what you want._ "Oh, um, sorry, but you seem to know my name and I don't know yours."

"That's true." The girl turned from her inspection of the car to give him a disconcertingly mature gaze. "I'm Janesha of Mystal." Then she reached out and put her hand on the roof of the car.

"I'm pleased to meet yooouuuu …" His voice trailed off as his eyes widened. He'd known she was powerful, but this was _ridiculous._ Before his very eyes, his car was _inflating_ back to its original shape. No, _better_ than its original shape. Faded paint was being replaced by show-room floor quality colour, chrome gleamed once more, and even the seats were back to their pristine condition. By the time she took her hand away from the roof of the car, it quite honestly looked _better_ than it had when he'd first bought it. "Holy crap," he managed, for want of something better to say.

The girl blew imaginary smoke from her fingertips. "Well, you're _half_ right."

"Uh ... what?" That didn't make any sense at all. Of course, not everything she was saying or doing _did_ make sense, even when Danny factored in cape strangeness. Take for example the talot and the mystallion. Two different creatures, one able to shear through steel with its teeth and the other an honest to goodness _pegasus,_ complete with functional wings. He'd never heard of either one before today—well, he'd _read_ about things like that, but strictly as mythical creatures—much less seen them.

"Never mind." Her amusement was back in full force. "So why were you out here today? Taking pictures of old sinking ships and rusty cranes in the hope that someone would listen to you long enough to help get the port back into shape?"

He blinked at her. "How do you know that?" he asked. His camera was safely in his pocket, and had been since her crash-landing. The only way she could've deduced that was … "Cape powers," he said. "Did you just read my mind?" This didn't make him at all comfortable. The only reported mind-reader was the Simurgh, and nobody wanted to be compared to _her._ Not to mention the fact that doing so was about the most definitive invasion of privacy there was.

"Yes," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'm a mind-bender. It's what I do."

"Well, don't do it to _me,"_ he said roughly. "That's way beyond acceptable." He grimaced. "I mean, thanks for fixing my car and saving my life, but … don't do it again, okay?"

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

Before Janesha answered, she went into his mind to find out why he had such a distaste for having his thoughts looked at. Most mortals basically expected celestials to be able to perform miraculous tasks like that as a matter of course. If it became a real issue, she could always smooth away the memory of his knowledge that she'd read his mind in the first place. Mind-bending was kind of cool like that.

The first thing she came across was a reference to a celest that she knew. _What in the name of the Unknown Realms is Simurgh doing here?_ The last she'd heard, the immense bird-like goddess was resident in her home realm of Gaokerena with no intention of going anywhere.

Looking deeper, Janesha followed a trail of memory impressions to a TV image of the feared Simurgh. What she saw was a bizarre shape that, while Simurgh could probably assume it (like the Asgardians, she was descended from shapeshifting stock) Janesha could not imagine her ever doing so. And from the tone of his thoughts and memories, _this_ 'Simurgh' was a mind-bender of some sort, using a psychic song to drive men mad. Simurgh had many talents, but mind-bending and needlessly hurting mortals were both beyond her. _Oh, she'd be so pissed if she ever heard about this. Somehow, I don't think I'll be the one to tell her._

Apparently in Earth Bet, to become a 'Simurgh victim' meant a life of suspicion and paranoia as everyone around you expected to erupt into violence at the worst possible moment. Mortals had been slaughtered en masse for being driven insane by her song. _I'm not established yet, but even_ _ **I**_ _know that's not the way to gain converts._ When she was about to pull out of his mind, she caught references to two other 'Endbringers', which was also what the faux Simurgh was supposed to be. While she'd never met the real Leviathan and Behemoth, she had no doubt they'd be equally unhappy at this co-opting of their names.

"Sorry about that," she went on without pausing. "I'm kinda used to doing it among my folks. It's not a big thing with us." For the moment, she decided to go along with his mistaken impression that she was part of a team of superheroes. "But I'll stay out of your head because it's so important to you." _Unless it's necessary, of course._ That went without saying, but it was time to change the subject. She waved at the ships and cranes. "Do you really think you're gonna succeed with just a few photos?"

* * *

 **Danny**

* * *

"I don't know, but I've got to _try,"_ Danny said. "The Dockworkers are depending on me. I've got to do _something."_ He hated the helpless tone in his voice, especially since his thoughts slipped back to Taylor as he said it.

For the first time, he saw that her eyes had tiny points of light in them, far back within. He wasn't quite sure why she smiled. "Well, your troubles are over. Even heroes need help from time to time, and since you're a hero, I'm here to help. Or rather, we can help each other get what we want."

"Wait." Danny's head was getting turned around. "I'm not sure what's going on here, but I've got a job to do and a child to take care of. So if you don't mind making a little sense here, I'd greatly appreciate it." He frowned at her. "And don't think I missed that little two-step you pulled earlier, miss. On your team leader _and_ on me."

She blinked. "Team leader?"

"The one you called 'Mom'," he reminded her. "Or is she really your mother? Is 'Mystal' another family team, like New Wave?" It would explain why she was going unmasked, he supposed. Though hadn't they learned _anything_ from what had happened with New Wave, back in the day?

"Mystallians support each other," she said flatly. "If we have 'team leaders', they would be Uncle Avis and Aunt Clarise, and Uncle Amaro and Aunt Yasadan."

Now he was totally lost. "Avis? Like the rental-car company?"

She looked at him strangely then burst out laughing, leaving him wondering what he'd said that was so funny. "Oh, wow, you have that here _too?_ Oh, that's amazing. He's gonna be _so_ pissed." She shook her head. "That whole thing was a prank because he irritated a couple of his grandsons and that pair of wiseasses took matters into their own hands."

Her double-talk was starting to irritate him. "Do you call yourselves 'mystallions' after your pegasus things, or did you name them after the team name?"

Cloudstrike looked up from where she'd been cropping some of the weeds that grew through the cracks in the concrete, and stamped a hoof. Danny stared as the solid slab fractured into several parts from the impact, then resisted the impulse to step back from the glare of death directed at him by the pegasus; or rather, mystallion.

Janesha, when she spoke, sounded just as irritated as the animal looked. "Calling Cloudstrike a 'pegasus' is like calling everyone in the world a 'Danny', and the next time you refer to her as a _thing_ , I'll let her bite you." As if to underline the threat, the mystallion took up a chunk of concrete that had snapped free by her hoof. With her eyes fixed on Danny's, she crushed it to powder in her teeth, then made an obvious show of spitting it to one side.

"Uh, nice mystallion?" Danny ventured, raising both hands placatingly. He glanced over at Janesha. "Does she _know_ what we're saying, here?"

Janesha shrugged. "More or less. As I was saying, Pegasus was the name of a mystalli _on_ that made it into your legends, once upon a time. And we call ourselves Mystalli _ans_ because we are of Mystal."

That didn't quite explain everything, but he decided not to ask any more of what she obviously considered to be silly questions. "Okay," he said. "But how come I've never heard of Mystal before? If you're an established family team like New Wave, you should be all over the news. Especially with your mystallions. I know reporters who would crawl a mile over broken glass to interview you just about those."

"Oh, we're from a _long_ way out of town," she explained with an airy wave. "You wouldn't have heard of us before."

Which was a non-answer as far as he was concerned, but if he knew teenagers she would dodge and dissemble on that topic until the cows came home. "Okay," he said again. "So what are you doing in Brockton Bay without adult supervision? And what was with your dramatic entrance? Was that talot chasing you? Where did _it_ come from, anyway?"

"It was chasing me because it was chasing me," she said, as only a teenage girl could. "Nobody really knows where they come from, to be honest." She dusted her hands off as if ridding herself of the topic then waved again, this time encompassing the ships and cranes with the gesture. "So, would you like me to help you fix all this?"

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

That got his attention, as she'd known it would. His gaze narrowed, then he looked at the ships and cranes, then back to her. "When you say 'help me fix it', what exactly do you have in mind?" he asked cautiously. But despite his air of reserve, she knew damn well she had him hooked.

"I mean _fix_ it," she said impatiently. "Refloat and repair those ships you think are worth it. Junk the rest. Clean up the port and get the machinery back into working order. Give your Dockworkers some docks to work on." She cracked her knuckles. "I call it a day, tops."

His jaw dropped, just a little. "You can't be serious." Turning his head, he stared at the rusting, rotting hulks and the dockside machinery which (if she was being honest) wasn't much better off. Then he looked back at her. "You can do all that in a day?"

She didn't need to go into his mind to read the doubt there. It practically radiated off of him. Mildly irritated, she nodded. "Oh, ye of little faith." She knew full-well she was borrowing the favourite saying of one of her cousins, but she didn't care.

With firm strides, she led the way to the crater she'd dug out when she first arrived. Slabs of concrete had been smashed up and out of the way by the impact, but that was mainly due to her being a celest. The mortal plane of any realm did its best not to harm celestials in any way, but she had no doubt confused matters by being in a throwdown with the talot—which _also_ counted as a celestial creature that just so happened to want her dead.

Crouching down, she laid her hand flat on the closest undamaged slab to the crater. This wasn't something she did very often, but she knew how to do it. Her power radiated out from where she was touching the concrete, flattening and smoothing down the disrupted paving. The dirt shuffled itself back into the crater as if ashamed of itself, and one by one, the concrete slabs rebuilt themselves over it. She had to make the concrete a little thicker and denser to accommodate the extra mass from the talot, but that was no particular effort for her. Thirty seconds after commencement, she stood up and looked at him, one eyebrow raised slightly.

For his part, he was staring at the pristine concrete in the same way he'd watched her rebuild his car. This time, his jaw did drop. Enjoying the moment, she strutted out on to the freshly-rebuilt slab and stamped on it; only the dullest of thuds answered her. "You were saying?" she asked with a smirk.

He closed his mouth then opened it to speak, but at that moment, Cloudstrike tossed her head and snorted. Janesha looked at her mount, and saw that the mystallion was staring toward what was presumably the entry gate to the dockyards. She retuned her ears so that she could hear more effectively, and then she heard the rumble of some sort of engine, moving fast and coming closer. "I think we have company," she said. "Are they likely to be heroes or villains?"

"Around here?" Danny Hebert shrugged helplessly. "After the entry you made, it could be anyone. Cops, PRT, heroes, villains, gangers, wannabes, Rogues …"

"Ah, right." She nodded. That made sense. From his memories, the city wasn't quite awash with crime yet, but it only missed that description by a narrow margin. This was very much a city where the bottom line was 'grab what you can, and to Hell with anyone else'. Mystal was both like that, and totally unlike it. While any Mystallian was expected to go after whatever they wanted, deliberately trampling innocents into the dirt in the process was severely frowned upon.

"Stay close to me," she said, moving back toward him. If they were no more than fifteen feet apart, she could institute what she called 'emergency-god' procedures, but she didn't want to do that quite yet. Especially not with Danny Hebert. He'd been living in Brockton Bay all his life, and while he was by most standards a good man, he also had a strong dose of cynicism in his makeup. Also, she was a child in his eyes. Which meant that for a situation requiring absolute and unswerving belief in her capabilities, he wasn't the most suitable candidate.

However, she was short on other options, so if she had to, she would.

Pursing her lips slightly, she whistled a short note that had Cloudstrike trotting over, reins dangling. Janesha gathered them up and stood at her mystallion's head. If things went badly pear-shaped, she knew she could step back into the celestial plane and take the other two with her, but she didn't really want to have to go that far. _If I thought he was full of questions before …_

She tilted her head as she realised there were two different engine noises. One of them was fairly big, if the vibrations she could feel through the ground were any indication. A moment later, Danny Hebert also seemed to figure that out as well. "Who the hell _is_ that?" he asked out loud, apparently without meaning to.

A moment later, he was answered by a rending crash from behind one of the storehouses. Less than a second later, another crash followed, this one sounding like sheet metal being shredded. Then the large sliding doors at the front of the storehouse exploded outward, revealing a monstrous vehicle with a bulldozer blade on the front and several weapon turrets. Its engine bellowed as the heavy treads on the oversized metal wheels bit into the concrete.

"What … the … fuck?" Janesha blurted in astonishment. She was no expert on machinery, but that vehicle looked like it had been designed by someone who'd had either too much or too little ambrosia, and who knew less than her about how motor vehicles were supposed to go together. Yet still, somehow, it managed to drive and steer. Of course, given its unique method of entry, she was prepared to rule out the 'steer' aspect.

"Squealer," Danny Hebert said flatly. "The Merchants." He took a step toward his car. "In case you were wondering, they're bad guys."

She had just enough time to note that he hadn't said 'the' bad guys, when another vehicle swept into sight from the direction of the gate. From the lack of a crash, she presumed that Danny had left said gate open when he came in.

The newcomer was riding a motorcycle, but _what_ a motorcycle. Big and bulky with a blue and silver colour scheme, it matched the armour the rider was wearing. Moving faster than the mechanical monstrosity, the cycle closed the distance to Danny's car rather quickly. Janesha tightened her grip on Cloudstrike's reins, but the rider seemed to know what he was doing. Still travelling at some speed, he leaned the motorcycle over and performed a sliding stop that ended him up within a few yards of where Danny and Janesha stood with Cloudstrike.

The Merchant vehicle also skidded to a halt about ten yards away, the heavy metal treads ripping chunks out of the concrete. "Oh, for fuck's sake," muttered Janesha. "I just _fixed_ that."

The armoured rider climbed off of the bike. Reaching back, he detached some sort of polearm from his armour; with a smooth _click-clack_ that would've made her great-grandmother salivate, it unfolded into some kind of high-tech halberd. "Skidmark!" he bellowed. Janesha had to admire his self-control, given that he was standing three yards from the only mystallion on the planet and he wasn't staring in disbelief. One glance was all he gave them, then he had his full attention on the armoured hulk before him. "I'll give you the count of five to leave or surrender!"

Well, _that_ answered a question which had been hanging at the back of her mind. Danny wasn't the only one in Brockton Bay with balls of pure neutronium. _Either that, or they're all crazy here._

A hatch on the mechanical monstrosity popped open, and a dark-skinned man wearing a blue mask stuck his head out. "Go shove your dick up your motorbike's tailpipe, Armsmaster!" he yelled back, accompanying the words with a universally rude gesture. "We saw 'em first!"

Beside her, she saw Danny shake his head slightly. "Ah, crap," he muttered. "Can you do something about _this?"_

Janesha grinned predatorially. _"Oh,_ yeah."

* * *

End of Part Two


	3. Chapter 3

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Three: Celestial Shenanigans

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter beta-read by the author of_ _ **Ties that Bind**_ _(available on Amazon now).]_

* * *

 **Danny**

* * *

"Keep your head down," murmured Janesha. "You're only mortal, after all." Kicking off from the concrete, she took two running strides toward the tank. In the middle of the second stride, she vanished completely from his sight. Half a second later, she appeared directly in front of the overwrought contraption that Danny refused to call a 'vehicle', out of respect for all vehicles everywhere.

Drawing back her fist, she threw a punch at the bulldozer blade on the front of the thing. He wasn't quite sure what he'd expected, but the immense _CLANG_ that echoed back to him, and the sizeable dent that appeared in the broad slab of metal, wasn't it. Even more impressive was the way the whole tank was driven back a yard by the force of her blow.

 _Sonovabitch. She's a Mover and a Brute, too?_ Danny stared in amazement. He'd occasionally seen capes using their powers, but rarely so blatantly and never so close.

Armsmaster was made of sterner stuff. Abandoning his bike, he started moving toward the ongoing fight with his halberd up and ready. Danny wondered for a second if that was a smart move, then shrugged. Who was he to tell a cape how to do his job?

The tank engine suddenly over-revved, leaving no doubt the driver stupidly thought the best way around the obstacle in front of them was to go over the top of her. Surging forward, the metal cleats on the tank's tyres bit into the already-broken concrete, crushing it to dust. Janesha responded by raising both fists up over her head. When the blade was almost on her, she slammed them downward into the top edge of the attachment, crunching it in half lengthwise and driving the nose of the tank into the ground at her feet. Before Danny's horrified gaze, the back end of the tank flipped into the air. He cringed, already envisioning the whole thing landing on top of Janesha and flattening her. Skidmark, whose head and shoulders were out of the hatch, was just as likely to be killed, but Danny didn't care about him. He cared about Janesha.

And then she _caught the tank._ It was literally airborne, the back end pointing vertically into the air as it arced over to a potentially catastrophic landing, when she reached forward and seized hold of the badly bent blade. Ignoring all rules of physics as Danny knew them, the tank _stopped_ , steady in her hands. Then it kept going, but only because Janesha wanted it to.

Balancing the weight of a thirty-ton Tinkertech tank at an impossible angle (backward and upside down at forty-five degrees) she glanced over her shoulder at Armsmaster and called out, "Hey, you with the flashy stick. Make yourself useful. Catch!" Then she _shook the tank,_ like Danny might shake up a can of Coke to make it spray everywhere when he popped the top.

"Wha—hey—you motherfucking camel-fellating—whaaargh!" Skidmark didn't have time to say any more, as the shaking dislodged him from the tank. He fell more or less on top of Armsmaster; fortunately, the armoured hero got his halberd out of the way just in time to prevent a Skidmark kabob. Less fortunately, Armsmaster caught him with an armoured hand, which was probably better than falling on the bare concrete, but not by much. Not if the way he folded in half over Armsmaster's forearm was anything to go by.

Having removed Skidmark from the equation (and the tank), Janesha blithely reversed its movement and slammed it back on to its wheels. Just like in the cartoons, the shattering impact popped all eight wheels off of the tank and sent them careening into the distance. Likewise, the engine stalled. Whether the latter was due to the loss of the wheels or the sudden changes in attitude, Danny wasn't sure. He was hardly a mechanic.

Jumping lightly over the now non-functional bulldozer blade, Janesha grabbed the front armour panel and tore it away from the armoured vehicle in a cacophony of popping bolts and ripping steel. She casually tossed it aside and surveyed the internal mechanisms of the monstrosity. The plate crashed loudly to the concrete behind her then rocked back and forth with a clatter, but this was quickly drowned out by more engines roaring in the distance.

With one hand still on the tank, Janesha leaned back to look in the direction of the newcomers, just as a van followed by a 4x4 charged through the gap originally made by the tank. Standing up in the back of the 4x4, hanging on to the headframe with hands that … really weren't hands, was a pile of muck and trash in (very roughly) humanoid form. Despite the fact that the villain looked different every single time, Danny recognised Mush immediately. _Crap. Janesha, I hope you know what you're doing._

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

Janesha let out an aggravated breath. "Of course there's fucking more of them…" she muttered with a cross-eyed curse, because this was getting tedious. Just on a hunch—this was a close replica of Earlafaol's America and those shits looooved their guns—she took a moment to reinforce her body so that she was as durable as Danny. As the vehicles roared closer, she saw gun barrels come into view and knew she'd made the right decision. However, without a powerbase, or even a Realm-wide attunement, she could only deal with one mortal situation at a time and her priority was whatever idiot was driving this monstrosity. She looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with Cloudstrike, then inclined her head towards the two vehicles.

Cloudstrike didn't need a second invitation. With a ringing whinny, she was airborne before the oncoming enemy came to a halt.

There was a reason that mystallions were known as one of the fastest creatures in all the realms (behind the Hellion brute squad, of course. She'd heard Uncle Avis talk about how scary fast those things were, which had impressed her considerably). In the time it took for the van and the 4x4 to screech to a halt alongside each other, Cloudstrike was already there. She dipped her shoulder and rammed the right side of the van with enough force to send it airborne into the 4x4. The van bounced off the 4x4 and rolled over and over, while the pickup with the trash golem in the back careered off to the side **;** equally out of control.

 _Sssstriiiike!_ Janesha chuckled, turning her attention back to the tank. Tenpin bowling was one of the many small pleasures that the Mystallians had taken back with them from their extended stay on Earlafaol. Uncle Chance was particularly fond of it, despite the narrow margin for luck, but he'd always been a goofball like that. Of all the elders, he was the one most likely to be in the middle of the pool on someone else's shoulders, challenging any newcomers to topple what he decreed was their indomitable 'tower'. Everyone wanted Uncle Chance on their side in a game. Who wouldn't want Luck on their side?

But that wasn't helping her now. Focusing on the task at hand, she grabbed hold of something that looked important and heaved, savouring the sound of shrieking metal as it tore from the tank. Wanting a repeat of that sound, she tossed it over her shoulder and climbed into the space thus emptied out, looking for her next viable target.

Another whinny from Cloudstrike caught her attention and she lifted her head. Not that she was concerned about her friend's welfare but because it sounded like she was having way too much fun. That thought was confirmed as Cloudstrike delivered a powerful two-hoofed kick to the trash golem, driving it backward fifty metres into the side of a shed.

Moving on to her next toy, the mystallion lifted into the air with a single beat of her wings and came down next to the van. She latched on to the corner of the van roof with her teeth and brought her wings down, at the same time swinging her head in a wrenching motion. Already dented and battered by its previous encounter with the angry mystallion, the van barely lifted off its wheels before the roof tore free.

Janesha laughed openly. _They screwed with us. They asked for it._ And went back to burrowing her way into the tank. Grabbing two pieces of machinery at random, she pulled them away from each other with another wrenching crunch, and came face to face with a woman wearing something that Aunt Emi might decide to throw on for a casual day in. Except that nothing would be permitted to mar the Mystal's goddess of Love, Lust and Fertility's exquisiteness. Certainly not the splotches of oil that this woman had all over her. Also, Aunt Emi had never pointed a pistol at Janesha's face. Now, that was just rude.

"Hi," said Janesha cheerfully, pretending to ignore the mortal weapon. "Are you going to surrender, or do I have to explain why fighting back's a bad idea?"

"F-f-fuck you!" blurted the woman, then grabbed a lever beside her seat and yanked on it. The explosion partially deafened Janesha for a few seconds, and the cloud of smoke made her cough, but neither did her any real harm. But by the time she could see again, the woman was gone. Janesha climbed into what had been the control compartment of the tank, which no longer had a roof, and looked up. Far above, she saw the seat, suspended under a parachute that might have been stitched together from whatever the woman had at hand.

 _Do you really think you can get away from me that fucking easily? I'm a Mystallian, bitch._ Janesha shook her head as the multitude of ways she could bring the mortal to heel flashed across her mind. Deciding on the most hands on approach, she leapt through the hole in the roof to land on top of the tank. From the new vantage point, she saw Armsmaster subduing the men who'd been in the van and the pickup, while Cloudstrike continued to play tag with the trash golem. Well, _Cloudstrike_ was playing. As expected, the golem wasn't. The mystallion was alternating shoulder-checks with solid kicks that sent the reeking thing bowling across the concrete for tens of metres at a time, whinnying happily with each strike. _That's my girl._

Lining herself up to intercept the woman who'd bailed from the tank, Janesha leapt upwards. At a hundred metres up and about twenty downwind, it wasn't even a difficult jump. Fortunately, the woman didn't have any way to steer away from her, and Janesha came close enough to grab hold of the ersatz ejection seat with one hand. She heard several loud bangs, but it took a second or so to realise that the woman was shooting at her—point blank.

"Seriously?" she asked, shifting her eardrums to remove the ringing. "I just ripped the shit out of your little toy tank and you think a _gun_ is going to affect me?"

"Just fuck off!" shouted the woman, trying to stamp on her fingers. "I never did nothing to you! Leave me alone!"

Janesha sighed, and with a firmer grip on the chair, she climbed to hang on to the seat alongside her quarry. "First things first," she said, and severed the parachute cords. The last thing she needed was that stupid thing dragging along behind. The chair immediately began to plummet and the woman screamed, but by that stage Janesha had a strong grip on the chair. Making a stepping motion, she pushed them both into the celestial realm.

The woman's scream switched pitch to a shriek as she stared at the unnatural surroundings, both the un-Earthlike sky overhead and the crystalline landscape below. "What the fuck?" she babbled. "Where the fuck did you take me, you fucked up fucking…?"

"Oh, shut up," growled Janesha, and used her shifting to temporarily paralyse the woman's vocal chords. As she did so, she noticed something odd. From the woman's head, a celestial energy line stretched off into the distance. Orange-red in colour, it glowed with a steady intensity. _What in the Realms is that?_ she wondered. It wasn't something she'd ever seen before, although this was the first time she'd ever personally pulled a mortal through into the celestial plane. No doubt, someone, somewhere, _had_ to have done something like this before, given the uncountable number of eons since the Twin Notes had first been sung, but she'd never even heard of this particular effect.

 _Definitely something to look into_ , she decided. But not right at that moment. Stepping back into the mortal plane, she chose to emerge right next to the tank. As the ejection seat fell the last few centimetres to the concrete, she retained her grip on it. This allowed her to use her shifting to fuse the buckles together so that the woman could not escape. Then she took hold of the woman's pistol and removed it from her grasp. "It's for your own safety," she explained, as she crushed it into useless metal chunks. "You might hurt yourself with it." Dropping the pistol remnants to the ground, she straightened up in preparation of dealing with whoever was left.

Which, as it turned out, was just the trash golem. Armsmaster had wrapped up the last of the mortals from the overturned pickup, but the golem was still up and around. Much as she didn't want to ruin Cloudstrike's fun, Janesha knew she had to finish things up, so she let out a short whistle to get the mystallion's attention. When Cloudstrike glanced her way, Janesha gestured at the golem, then flicked her finger in a beckoning motion.

She grinned broadly at her friend's look of disbelief and almost laughed at the disappointed huff that seemed to end in a pout. Nevertheless, Cloudstrike obediently flew past the golem—the barrel roll was unnecessary but would be impressive to anyone who didn't know a mystallion's true capabilities—and slammed her rear hooves into its back. Shedding random pieces of crap, the golem was sent flying across the battlefield until it rolled to a complete halt under Janesha's raised foot. _Niiice, old friend._ Janesha stepped back and resumed one of her Uncle Avis' preferred poses when dealing with inconsequentials. Her hands were clasped in the small of her back under her cloak and her booted feet were parted as she stood at ease.

The golem clambered to its feet and took a blind swing at her. She caught the incoming punch just as easily as she had the tank, and the moment the contact was made, she noted all the trash on the golem was acting as a singular unit. _Well, well, well. Who said you needed Uncle Chance's blessing to get lucky?_ Before it could learn from its mistake, she locked all of those things together into a solid mass, immovable and unbreakable.

"That was waaay too easy," she observed to nobody in particular as it consequently fell over. Of course, she'd have to turn in her celestial-card if she allowed a pack of mortals to defeat her inside the mortal realm. It wouldn't have been anywhere near as much fun if Cloudstrike hadn't been there, and no doubt some of the little pests would've gotten away.

"I wouldn't get too cocky if I were you," Armsmaster said as he headed in her direction. His hearing wasn't too bad for a mortal's, to have heard that. Unless his armour had sound pickups, of course. She wasn't totally conversant with the levels of mortal technology available here, but she wouldn't have been surprised. "You got lucky with the tank. Squealer's work is pretty hit and miss. What if she'd had armour you couldn't get through?"

Janesha ran through several options in her mind. Laughing in his face probably wouldn't make the best of impressions, so she decided to humour him. For now. "That's not actually possible," she said, and picked up the armour plate she'd torn off earlier. Cheating just a little with her shifting, she flattened it out then creased it down the middle with her thumbnail and folded it over. Then she folded it again, and a third time as well. Taking hold of the now inches-thick slab of steel, she looked Armsmaster straight in the visor and casually tore the folded armour plate in half. "Bring me a real tank, and I can shred it just as easily. This was nothing."

"I … see." Armsmaster looked from her, to the trash golem, to where Cloudstrike was trotting over. He gestured at the motionless golem with his polearm. "What did you do to him?"

"'Him'?" asked Janesha, honestly puzzled. "That thing's a 'him'?"

"That 'thing' is Mush, of the Merchants," Armsmaster said severely. "There's a man in there. Didn't you know that?"

"Ah…no. Actually, I just figured it was a trash golem." And this right here was a classic example of why celestials looked into the minds of mortals. It saved a lot of misunderstanding and backtracking if they were all on the same page from the beginning.

The edges of the chunks of steel were still glowing red from where she'd torn them. Tossing them aside, she bent down and scooped up the trash golem, lifting it to chest height. Then she brought it down on the concrete, cracking it open like an egg. Within lay a wizened little man who could've been any age from nineteen to ninety. Weird tendrils were retracting into his body, and he drew in a long shuddering breath of air as she watched. "Okay. There you go. One de-mushed Mush."

"He was suffocating," Armsmaster said accusingly. "You could've killed him."

Janesha gave him the same sort of flat stare she'd gotten from her great-grandmother on occasion. "He was going to hit me hard enough to flatten any m—uh, mundane," she retorted. "And his cohorts were pouring gunfire everywhere. I was just defending myself, or isn't that allowed around here?" She shrugged carelessly. "Besides, I didn't _tell_ him to wrap himself in garbage. He was dumb enough to do that all by himself."

"Superheroes don't resort to lethal force straight away," Armsmaster insisted. "We're supposed to use restraint."

Cloudstrike trotted up then, and Janesha reached up to caress the mystallion's cheek and ruffle her ears. "Who said I'm a superhero? And he's alive, isn't he? So, what's your problem?"

Armsmaster stood up straighter, and his halberd lifted a few inches. "Are you saying you're a villain?"

"Oh, get a grip." Janesha snorted and gave him an unamused look. "I don't accept labels from people who aren't qualified to give them to me." _You don't worship me, so you don't get to define me._

Armsmaster didn't seem able to process that. He stared at her for a moment, as if trying to determine her secrets through sheer force of will. For her part, Janesha returned the scrutiny with rather more effect. Danny had given her a great deal of information about this 'Earth Bet', but she figured that Armsmaster would know more that she could find useful. So she dived into his head.

His thought processes were smooth, efficient, almost mechanical in nature. He was a man solitary and lonely by turns, never really able to relate to others very well. There was only one real personal attachment, with another Tinker—those who built highly-advanced machines and other devices—in Canada, called Dragon. It was kind of sad that the two had never met in person.

Interestingly enough, his helmet had just taken a picture of her and was running it through a database of images, but she knew damn well he wouldn't get anywhere with that. Deciding to allow him his fruitless quest—this time—she kept looking.

She skimmed over what he would consider confidential information about the Protectorate, as she couldn't really be bothered with it. Armsmaster's personality was much more interesting. The man had pride (as Uncle Chance would put it) out the wazoo. He was fixated on proving that he was the best at what he did, even when he wasn't doing what he was best at.

Which brought her to his current thoughts. He had two goals right at this moment. One was to garner as much credit as possible for the arrest of the three parahumans as he could manage. The second was to attempt to recruit her into the Wards … which, while it might be amusing for about ten minutes, she really wasn't interested in. As she followed the branching lines of his thought processes, she mentally frowned. If he couldn't recruit her, he'd claim as much of the credit as he figured he could get away with. _Why, you sneaky little …_

More informed about the Protectorate, the PRT and Brockton Bay in general than she had been before (and _much_ more informed about Armsmaster's level of ethics) Janesha pulled back out of his head. No time had passed, of course, so he was still reacting to what she'd said to him. It was plain to see, even without the benefit of the excursion into his mind, that he didn't hold any significant respect for her.

Still, he managed to put on a reasonable simulacrum of a friendly approach. "If that's the way you want to play it. I'll put you down as a rogue. Now, let's talk about credit for this arrest."

"Sure," she said promptly. "Cloudstrike and I get credit for Skidmark, Squealer and Mush. You can have the rest of those guys over there." Casually, she indicated the minions whom Armsmaster had subdued and secured. "I mean, sure, technically you caught Skidmark, but only because I dropped him right on top of you first."

"Understood." He nodded, and she knew exactly where his mind was going, even without stepping back into his head. "If I understand matters correctly, you're either new on the scene or you're from out of town, so have you considered joining the Wards? Everyone needs backup at one time or another, and we have a good team here—"

Now he was just slathering on the bullshit. The Brockton Bay Wards team may have been world-beaters for all Armsmaster knew about it, but he barely spent any time with them. In any case, had _any_ recruitment pitch ever opened with _you'll probably have nothing in common with them, but …_?

"—and I'm sure you'll get along. New Wards get an automatic transfer to Arcadia High if you want—"

"Pass," she said. "I'm on holiday, not in school. And I've got all the backup I need right here, don't I, Cloudstrike?" Leaning her head over, she rubbed her cheek against the mystallion's. Right on cue, Cloudstrike snorted in agreement, then rapped her hoof against the concrete sharply.

Armsmaster didn't seem totally pleased at her brush-off, but he nodded. "Well, then," he said, folding the halberd and racking it on his back. "That seems to be all. One question, though."

She looked over at him, wondering if he was going to have an attack of conscience and ask again for credit for the arrests. "Yeah?"

Reaching up, he touched his helmet; the metal gauntlet _tinged_ on the side of his headpiece. "Aren't you concerned about your secret identity? Your family might be under threat if someone figures out who you are."

She laughed out loud at that. "Oh, if anyone even figured out how to _get_ to my family, they'd be in so much trouble. My parents are so much more powerful than me, it's not even a contest."

Interestingly enough, that seemed to really get his attention. He performed a kind of double-take, his lips drawing down in a frown of disbelief.

 _Okay, what's he looking at now?_ But rather than go back into his head, she ran back through the knowledge she'd lifted from his head. Image after image of his thought processes went past her inner vision, then she got to what he was seeing. And there it was; a green LED illuminating the word TRUTH. Beneath it was an unlit one with a red tinge, and the word LIE. _Huh, so I just lit up the truth meter, and he has no idea how to handle it._ Inwardly, she smirked. _Chew on that, halberd-boy._

"I … see," he replied, while it was abundantly clear that he didn't see at all. "Well, in any case, the PRT will be arriving shortly. You don't have to wait around for them. If you want, I can give you my card, and you can go on your way. I'll deal with the statements." His tone of voice implied boredom, but she wasn't fooled.

"Yeah, I know exactly what you want me to do," she said flatly. "You want me to go on my merry way so you can give _your_ report, which will by _sheer accident_ claim the greater part of the credit for all this, won't it?"

It was intriguing, she decided, to watch the face of someone who had been caught out in a deception. The shock was inevitable, but then the anger came up. _There's nobody so pissed as he whose hand is caught in the cookie jar._

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded.

Pretending not to hear him, Janesha shook her head and ran her hand over Cloudstrike's nose, now addressing her friend more than the mortals. "Can you believe we spend three weeks riding away from one pretentious, thunder-stealing blowhard, only to run smack into another? What're the odds, Cloudstrike?"

Cloudstrike looked over at Armsmaster arrogantly and nickered in agreement.

"Your allegation is ridiculous," he snapped. "That wasn't my intention!"

He was _good;_ if she hadn't read that exact intent in his mind, she would've been doubting herself. But she had, so she rolled her eyes. "Bullshit. You were planning to do this if you couldn't recruit me because you want to scrounge every bit of credit for yourself, just like someone else Cloudstrike and I know. By the time you were finished with your report, I'd just be some nobody who came in at the last minute and lent a hand. Well, I didn't let that red-headed asshat get away with it, and I'm not about to let you get away with it either. You want glory, go look somewhere else for it."

"That's a very dangerous allegation to present without proof, young lady." Armsmaster's lips visibly tightened.

Janesha was just about to say how she'd shout it from the rooftops if she felt like it, when Cloudstrike unfurled her off wing and flicked it around with pinpoint accuracy. The feathers that made up the very tip were more than a metre long, and far stronger than they looked. Cloudstrike's wingtip _thwacked_ Armsmaster across the side of the helmet, then the wing re-furled just as fast. Caught off guard by the impact, which would've felt like an open-handed slap delivered by a strong man, Armsmaster stumbled a step and reached around to grab his polearm; a second later, it was unfolded and in his hands. Cloudstrike gazed back at him innocently, then spoiled the effect by nickering with amusement. Or maybe it was Janesha's giggle that gave it away.

"Young lady!" snapped Armsmaster. "As the leader of the Protectorate in Brockton Bay, I'm ordering you to stand down your projection." He didn't threaten her with the halberd—he had to have seen what she'd done with the tank—but it was almost angled toward her.

 _Okay, I guess there_ is _one more mortal who needs to be put down here,_ Janesha thought as both she and Cloudstrike stiffened in response, no longer finding the situation funny. She glared at Armsmaster, her hostile gaze matched by that of Cloudstrike. "I didn't tell Cloudstrike to smack you, you arrogant prick, but if she hadn't, I would've. And you've got two seconds to get that thing out of my face, or I'm gonna do something with it that'll make you cry."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Danny running toward them. It was sweet of him to think she needed the protection, but right now Armsmaster would need it more. To her surprise, he grabbed her by the elbow and not Armsmaster.

"Janesha," he said urgently. "Don't hurt him, please? Despite what you might think, he _is_ one of the good guys."

Janesha twisted her lips as she bounced the pros and cons around in her head, along with the options. _"Fine,"_ she huffed, turning back to stare straight at him. _**Put the halberd away.**_ This was a celestial command from mind-bender to mortal, and he had as little chance of disobeying as water had of running uphill naturally. The halberd was folded and racked on his back within seconds.

Then, for the second time in less than a minute, she went into Armsmaster's mind. This time, however, she wasn't there to just do some light reading. Going over the last minute of memory, she frowned inwardly. Armsmaster was a stubborn individual who could make life difficult for Danny and his family, and Danny didn't want her hurting him. Which left her a grand total of two options (because Danny would've probably objected if she turned Armsmaster into a house cat) and fleeing from a mortal wasn't gonna happen.

Accordingly, she began modifying his memories.

" _Well, in any case, the PRT will be arriving shortly. You don't have to wait around for them. If you want, I can give you my card, and you can go on your way. I'll deal with the statements."_

" _Of course," Janesha replied sweetly. "That's Janesha, with a J. And Cloudstrike. It's spelled the way it sounds." Cloudstrike tossed her head and whinnied, and Janesha stroked her neck._

" _What is Cloudstrike?" asked Armsmaster, finally seeming to notice that the mystallion wasn't a normal horse. "Some kind of projection?"_

" _No, she's a mystallion," Janesha told him. "My name's Janesha of Mystal, and_ _ **you will show us the respect to which we are entitled**_ _."_ She made the last part of that sentence a mental command that he would have no choice but to obey. Then, realising that her order would make the hero grovel at her feet in the presence of a deity without knowing why, she amended it to, _ **"You will show us the respect of an equal."**_ There, that would ensure that he wouldn't try to steal their credit, and also make him keep a civil tongue in his head while speaking to her and Cloudstrike. This would go a long way to maintaining his unharmed state in the future. He'd still be his usual dickish self to everyone else, but not to the visiting celestials. Danny would probably have kittens if he found out she could do this, but it really was the easiest way to wrangle a feral mortal without doing anything physical to them.

Just to ensure everything in the newly created memory flowed the way she wanted, she stepped back and replayed the interaction between them from the very beginning.

Which was when she saw it.

In the top right hand corner of his field of vision was a little blinking red light with 'REC' next to it.

 _Oh, you sneaky little vermin._

The mortal had _recorded_ her. Okay, that could have been a problem if she hadn't caught it. She could easily see him overreacting to the discrepancies between his memory and the footage in his helmet. _Get ready to kiss your techie-toy goodbye, butt-baster._ She waited just long enough to memorise the speed at which the REC light flashed before returning to the physical realm.

"Very well, Janesha," Armsmaster said. "If you're certain about wanting to take the credit?" As expected, his tone was much friendlier now.

Janesha nodded. "I am," she confirmed with a carefree nod of her head. "Thanks for being concerned, though I'm pretty sure we'll be fine."

"Understood." He paused. "I would strongly suggest wearing a mask, to prevent any problems in the future, though. Even a domino mask. It's very dangerous to go around unmasked."

"I'll keep that in mind." Janesha said the words to keep things civil, but inwardly she knew the other eight levels of Hell would freeze over before she ever hid behind a mask. She'd never live it down if anyone back home ever found out. Mystallians were proud of what they were. They drew a line, and dared anyone to cross it. Period. She forced herself to smile as she held out her hand in farewell. "It was very informative meeting you."

Having no clue just how informative he'd been, Armsmaster took her hand in his and shook it. "I'm glad you think so." The moment their hands touched, she used shifting to fry that damned recording chip in its entirety, but kept the little 'REC' light flashing for another two minutes. Just long enough to not be blamed for when it stopped and the conceited jerk realised the whole chip had suffered a catastrophic failure. Had she been more conversant with the technology, she would've overlaid the recording with what he remembered happening, but that wasn't the case here. Armsmaster dipped his head and stepped away, breaking contact. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to see to the prisoners. I'll be certain to make sure you get all the credit for this."

"Thanks," she said, barely biting back the words, 'That's a good boy'. She thought about mounting Cloudstrike and going airborne for a little bit of a dramatic exit, but realised if she did that, she might lose track of this Danny, and cursed herself for agreeing to stay out of his mind. He hadn't told her anything about himself that she could use to find him later, except for the fact he worked on the docks and was invested enough to put in the hard yards. It was time she didn't want to waste, so she took up Cloudstrike's reins and stepped towards Danny's car. "Come on, Cloudstrike."

As Cloudstrike allowed herself to be led away, Danny fell into place beside them. Janesha could almost feel the waves of parental dissatisfaction coming off her human friend and fought to keep her face unreadable. She knew Armsmaster had some kind of heightened hearing, so she didn't open the discussion until they were on the other side of the yard with Danny's car between them. Still, she did have the image of all teens everywhere to uphold, so she gazed at Danny guilelessly. "What?"

"What the _hell_ was that?" he hissed, glancing over his shoulder at Armsmaster. "What did you do to him? And how much do I get for betting that it goes hand in hand with how you somehow knew that he was going to try to steal your credit?" She suspected he knew the answer and was asking the question in the hope of getting a different one.

Janesha followed his eyes to the hero in question, who at that moment was tapping the side of his helmet. _Sucker!_ "He wasn't going to let it go," she said. "And since I'm not about to let him arrest me, and you didn't want me to hurt him, you left me with only one option. I rewrote his memories and took out the part where Cloudstrike hit him." He didn't need to know the second part of what she'd done.

* * *

 **Danny**

* * *

Danny didn't know what was worse; that she'd done what he feared, or that she was so forthright about it. "Don't turn this back on me! It's _not_ right!" he snapped, barely keeping his voice down. "And you read his mind before that, didn't you? I told you _not to do that!"_

"You told me not to do it to _you,"_ she corrected him. "You never said anything about other people, and besides, you heard what that idiot said. That thing I thought was a lifeless trash golem turned out to be a living, breathing mortal. Because I didn't find out who was who beforehand, he could've died. This is exactly why we do what we do. To avoid any mistakes we don't want to make."

It wasn't the first time she'd used the term 'mortal', but he'd get to that in a minute. "You're still not supposed to do it, to anyone. That should've been understood from context."

"Why? He was trying to get into my head first. Fair's fair." With a wry grin and a wiggle of her eyebrows, she added, "I'm just better at it."

"Not funny. And altering memories is _just not acceptable._ " For a moment, he considered demanding that she change the memories back, but then recalled the point the standoff had gotten to. He was uncomfortably certain that Armsmaster would not stand a chance against Janesha. "Well, don't do it again. To anyone. I mean it."

She spread her hands and smiled in a show of innocence. He wasn't fooled for an instant, especially when she added, "It's not my fault that your cheap knockoff copy of Simurgh has got you all rattled when it comes to mind benders. Most of us are pretty cool."

He glowered at her. "And if we didn't agree to that, we soon would?"

Janesha at least had the grace to shrug. "Not that you'd notice the difference, if that's any consolation."

Danny shook his head very firmly. "No. It isn't." He took a deep breath. "Since we're clearing the air, why do you keep calling us 'mortals'? Is it like the way Myrddin keeps calling himself a wizard?"

"Wait … you've got real magic here? Cool! Man, you have no idea how rare real magic really…" She didn't seem disbelieving so much as excited, but then she blinked and her enthusiasm waned. "Oh, I see. He's just a cape that pretends to do magic. Wow, that's disappointing."

"Oh, for—!" Danny's fists clenched uselessly. It was a gesture of frustration rather than aggression, because she just kept pushing his buttons. "I just told you _not to do that!"_ Going from ignorance to fully knowledgeable in an instant was a dead giveaway, as far as he was concerned.

"Do what?" She blinked at him uncomprehendingly, then realised. "Oh! Oh … no … chillax, Danny. I didn't read your mind that time. I didn't have to. Armsmaster's already given me all the information I need about your supers." She tapped the side of her temple. "Time runs differently in here, so from your point of view, it all looks instantaneous. For me, I was gone about an hour going through all the info until I found Myrddin." With a frown, she added, "You have a hell of a lot of supers here, by the way, and Armsmaster hasn't exactly met them in alphabetical order."

"Oh." He let his hands unclench. "Ah. Sorry. I jumped to conclusions there." The fact that she had lifted swathes of knowledge from Armsmaster didn't make him feel any better, though. "Still, that's a horrific invasion of privacy."

"I didn't touch his private stuff," she assured him. "That's boring and creepy, all at the same time. I just went after the relevant stuff about the Protectorate and PRT and Wards."

He tried not to think about how she wouldn't have known Armsmaster's private life to be boring and creepy unless she looked first. "Okay, _please_ don't read peoples' minds, and definitely don't talk about doing it. I don't care if you think the Simurgh is a fake; around here, she's very real, and anyone reading minds or implanting memories is about one accusation away from arrest and Birdcaging. I know you're powerful, and you could probably hold your own against most capes, but if they took a step past that and declared you an S-class threat, nowhere would be safe."

She gave him one of those penetrating looks she was so good at. "I'll do nothing against anyone that isn't warranted, but I _will_ stand my ground against people like that, any way I see fit. It's the way I was brought up, and that's not going to change any time soon."

He sighed, fully aware that her definition of 'warranted' was likely to differ from his. "Okay, fine. Just don't go overboard. No killing people unless they're trying to kill you, or me, or some other innocent bystander, and you can't stop them non-lethally."

"You do realise bending them into compliance is exceedingly non-lethal, right?" she asked, obviously trying hard to sound innocent.

 _I walked right into that one._ "We both know you've got other options," he said firmly. "Mind control is the last resort." _And I can't believe I just said that out loud._

She rolled her eyes, confirming that yes, she was indeed a teenager. "Anything _else_ you want to do to limit me? Tie one hand behind my back? Make me push a rock uphill? Put a shackle on my ankle, maybe?"

"No, no and no." He gave her a direct look. "Just give me your word that you'll at least try other things first."

" _Fine,"_ she grumbled. "I'll try other things first. Happy?"

"Yes," he said, and opened the passenger side door. "Now get in the car. You obviously don't have any place to stay, and I'm not going to inflict you on Brockton Bay without proper warning. So you're going to come back with me until your parents come and get you, or you find a better place to stay."

She raised one finger. "But I can find—"

" _Without_ controlling someone's mind in the process," he finished.

She gave him a dirty look. "If I bent _you_ into ignoring my bending, you wouldn't give a damn about it," she muttered.

"So, why haven't you?" he asked. "It's not like I can stop you."

Her tone was no less sullen. "Because I was stupid enough to tell you I wouldn't."

 _And you're a girl of your word. That's good to know,_ Danny thought to himself, happy that his initial instincts about her weren't wrong. "True," he agreed, waving one hand at the passenger seat. "Now, get in the car."

She regarded both the open door and Danny with equal scepticism. "I think I'd rather stick to riding Cloudstrike. There's no room for her in there, and I can't say what she'd do in retaliation if I rode with you and she had to run along behind like a dog or something."

Danny didn't like the idea of Cloudstrike retaliating in any way either. He'd seen what she did to the van and the 4x4 when she was unhappy with them, and he'd just gotten his car fixed once already. "You won't want to leave her elsewhere in the long term either," he mused. "She's very striking. People would definitely talk about her, or even try to steal her." This, he was fully aware, would go very badly. Cloudstrike was … impressively capable.

"That'd be funny to watch," Janesha laughed, shaking her head. "But all jokes aside, I don't suppose you have a stable or something where you live?"

"No, just a regular house," he replied absently. "Though …" He looked over the slabs of concrete that Janesha had replaced seamlessly. "Can you do that reshaping-matter thing to anything?"

"Pretty well, yeah," she said. "Why?"

He didn't want to say anything right then, but it had occurred to him that the basement had quite a bit of empty space in it; enough to accommodate a horse, even. Getting said horse in and out of the house unseen would normally have been quite a task, but Janesha and Cloudstrike had both shown an aptitude at moving from point to point without crossing the intervening distance. And of course, Janesha's ability to make matter do whatever she wanted would go a long way toward making the accommodations far more comfortable for the mystallion.

Still, he wanted to look the basement over before making any rash promises."I think I have an idea. I'm just going to have to see if it works. Is there someplace you can put her for half an hour or so? You know, so I can drive you to my house."

"Hmm." Janesha thought about that for a moment. "I don't know about the whole 'putting her somewhere' thing, but I guess I can send her over to the Scottish countryside to graze for a bit. She never turns down a feed from the Highlands."

Danny blinked, and breathed out heavily. _Of course. Highlands grass. Because the Highlands of Scotland are just around the corner._ "How far does your teleporting work?" The question fell out of his mouth before he could think better of it, and hearing her response, he really wished it hadn't.

"We don't teleport. We realm-shift."

 _Realm-shift. Right. Gotcha. Why didn't I know that?_ Danny sighed. "Okay. I'll bite. How far can you _realm-shift_ then?"

Janesha's shoulders rose and fell in an indifferent shrug. "It honestly depends on how many steps we take. In the case of this place, we can be anywhere in the world in two."

"TWO STEPS!"

"Well, more, if we're dragging others with us, but yeah." Her smile brightened. "Wanna see?"

"No!" _**YES!**_ "Ahhh, not right now. Right now, we need to get ourselves home. Taylor's probably going crazy, wondering what's taking me so long." He looked at Cloudstrike nervously. "So … how … how do you tell her …?" Without having the right words, he used his hands to convey 'leave'.

Janesha chuckled. "Hey, Cloudstrike. Did you know they have the Highlands here, just like on Earlafaol?"

Immediately, Cloudstrike's head came up and her ears pricked forward. Snuffling the air eagerly, she pranced forward, her hooves tap-tapping on the concrete in a rapid rhythm. The excited nickering was almost superfluous as she looked beseechingly at Janesha.

"Well, if she didn't before, she does now," remarked Danny, finding the mystallion's patent eagerness somewhat appealing. He'd honestly never seen puppy-dog eyes on something so big before.

Janesha smirked in agreement. "That's right. So, why don't you go and graze for a bit and I'll call you when I need you, girl."

A gust of wind walloped Danny in the chest before he realised the space Cloudstrike had filled was empty. And he'd been looking straight at her. _That … wasn't teleport …_ "I don't want to ask how fast Cloudstrike really is, do I?"

"Probably not," Janesha laughed, having far too much fun at his expense. Then she sobered. "But you did bring up an interesting point before. Technically, you don't know me from a rock on the ground, so why are you offering to take me back to meet your daughter?"

"Okay, first?" Danny pointed at the statuette of the talot that he still held in his hand. "You saved my life. I owe you a debt of gratitude as well. Second, it's pretty obvious that you're one of the good guys. Third, you're about Taylor's age, and I'm not going to just let you wander around without any place to stay. Fourth, like I said, I'd prefer not to inflict you on Brockton Bay without some kind of prep." He gave her a stern glance. "Because _wherever_ you're from, you don't have much of a grasp of how things are done around here, such as _we don't mess with people's minds."_

"And I still say that mind-benders aren't nearly as bad as you guys seem to think," she huffed. "It's simple. Older ones keep the younger ones in line until they're old enough to be responsible about it. Don't you have any of that here?"

"Well, in a very general way, yeah," he admitted. "The Wards are junior heroes who do public appearances and work alongside the Protectorate heroes until they turn eighteen and become superheroes in their own right. But we don't have enough, uh, 'mindbenders' to keep the others in check. In fact, I can't really think of any heroic mentalist capes. They're all villains … and of course, the Simurgh. _Our_ Simurgh," he added sternly as she opened her mouth to say something. "She's killed hundreds of thousands, millions even, and caused entire cities to be barricaded away."

"Well, the _real_ Simurgh wouldn't do anything like that," Janesha said, just as adamantly. "She's a kind and gentle person who just likes to help people. She'd be really upset if she heard that someone stole her good name and turned her into a mass-murderer."

Once again, Danny was struck by Janesha's odd worldview. Calling him and Armsmaster 'mortals', sounding more excited about the possibility of magic than the reality of super-powers, and claiming that there existed a 'real' Simurgh who was nothing like the one that had terrorised the world for the last nine years and change was beyond unusual. But given her very real accomplishments and capabilities, not to mention the very existence of Cloudstrike, he was disinclined to dismiss her words and attitudes as a mere delusion. Which left the conclusion that she was telling the truth … and _that_ was a rabbit-hole he really didn't want to go down right at that moment.

* * *

End of Part Three


	4. Chapter 4

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Four: Settling In

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Karen Buckeridge, the author of_ _ **Ties That Bind**_ _. (Found on Smashwords and Amazon)]_

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

The TV was just a murmur in the background as Taylor huddled on the sofa. It was a reminder to her that she wasn't in the locker, and wasn't in the hospital room. The blanket was a comforting warmth around her neck and shoulders, but she didn't pull it too tight. Being compressed into a small space was something she honestly couldn't deal with right now. Even the bathroom gave her the creeps.

And then there was … the other thing. The thing with the bugs. She still didn't know what to think about it, or _how_ to think about it. Was it a good thing that she had powers, or was the world just shitting on her yet again? At least she'd worked out how to block out the incessant sensory inputs before they drove her mad all over again. She knew she really should learn how to interpret them properly, but one thing at a time.

Gravel crunched in the driveway, and she straightened slightly. _Dad's home. Good._ As much as they'd been drifting apart before this point, her distress had pulled them back together. Not that he was able to do much, but he'd been pushing hard to do what he could. And if he hadn't gone to the school, they wouldn't have given up as much as they did.

Paradoxically, he had more life in him now than he'd had in the last six months. Adversity had worn him down, but this was a target he could aim at, and she felt comforted with him nearby, fighting on her behalf.

She heard the car door close … then she heard it close again. _He must've forgotten something._ Because there was no possible reason she could think of for him to have someone else in the car, when all he'd been going to do was take some photos of the Boat Graveyard. Still, she sat up on the sofa. _I told Dad I'd do the washing up._ She couldn't see the pile of dirty dishes in the sink from where she was, but she could feel their guilty presence.

The back door lock clicked open, and she heard her father's voice. "… n't look like much, but it's home."

"Trust me," said a girl's voice, sounding somewhat amused. "I've seen much worse." Whoever it was _sounded_ around Taylor's age, but it wasn't someone she knew. She stood up, holding the blanket around herself, then changed her mind and discarded it on the sofa. Meeting a visitor wrapped up like a mummy probably wasn't the best way to make a good first impression.

"Dad?" she called out. "Who's that you've you got with you?"

"Oh, hey, Taylor." He sounded in good spirits, which was something. Leaning through the doorway into the kitchen, he gave her a smile and waved her towards him. "You're up. Good. I've got someone for you to meet." He stepped back into the kitchen, out of sight.

"Okay?" She frowned as she moved towards the kitchen, not at all thrilled at having unexpected visitors thrust on her. And she _still_ couldn't understand why her father would've just brought a teenage girl home like this. It was totally out of character for him.

A moment later, before she could cross the threshold into the kitchen, a girl stepped into the doorway. Just for an instant, it seemed to her that the newcomer was much more _real_ than everything around her. That was stupid, of course. She blinked, and everything looked normal again. The girl's dusky skin momentarily reminded Taylor of Sophia Hess but that was equally stupid, the same as when she felt a twinge of fear every time she glimpsed a redhead out of the corner of her eye. _Don't be an idiot, Taylor._ It was clear this girl was nothing like Sophia. For one thing, she lacked the aggressive attitude that Sophia brought to every interaction. In addition, her features were different; more South Sea islander than African-American. As for her clothing … _holy_ _ **crap.**_ _She's a_ _ **cape**_ _?_

"Hi, Taylor!" the newcomer greeted her. "I'm Janesha. It's nice to meet you. Your dad's told me all about you." She stepped into the living room and held out her hand.

More than a little bemused, Taylor shook Janesha's hand. There was strength there, she knew immediately, though whether that was merely athletic-girl strength or chuck-a-car strength, she wasn't at all sure. To her, it was one and the same.

"Um … okay?" Taylor rubbed her face, wondering if she'd fallen asleep and was now in the middle of a weird dream. "Why … did he bring you home with him? What's going on?"

"Plenty," said Janesha brightly. "But first, let's get rid of that misconception on your part. I'm no cape. I'm a celestial."

 _Right, like Myrddin thinks he's a wizard_.

Janesha's easy-going manner soured and she crossed her eyes over her nose, letting out an unimpressed raspberry. "No, not like that demented wannabe. Damn." She then shot a dirty look over her shoulder. "Like father, like daughter, huh?"

"Be nice," Taylor heard her father reply, warningly.

" _Fiiiine,"_ she drawled, rocking her head from side to side like a bobble-head doll. By the time she turned back to Taylor, her mischievous grin was back in place. "To cut a long story short, your dad did a stupidly brave thing and saved my life in the process. And _since he doesn't like me using my birthright to get my own way …_ " For whatever reason, she said that last part at a pitch higher and rolled her eyes to where Taylor knew her father was.

"Damn right!" she heard him bark as he unlatched the basement door and shoved it open so angrily, it banged against the living room wall from the other side and made all the framed photos wobble. Taylor blinked in mild surprise. Yes, the basement door would hit the wall if it was pushed hard enough, but she'd never seen anyone do it with that level of force before.

"… he's invited me to stay here for the foreseeable future," the girl ploughed on, as if he hadn't spoken. "And that brings you all up to date." Her smile brightened and she clapped her gloved hands together. "See? Everything's totally under control."

Taylor blinked. While she'd understood each and every word of Janesha's rapid-fire delivery, her comprehension fell down when she tried to consider it as a whole. One word in particular jumped out of the mix at her. "You called yourself a celestial. Are you saying you're some kind of angel?"

"Oh, _hell_ no!" Janesha's immediate look of disgust surprised Taylor. "I was _born!_ Do I look like a fucking construct to you?" She shook her head adamantly. "In fact, if you _ever_ happen to meet another Mystallian, don't even think of comparing us to angels. Uncle Avis calls them parasitic little pricks, and that's the _nicest_ thing he's ever said about them." Her lips twisted to one side thoughtfully. "You know what? I think it'd be easier to show you what I mean about being a _real_ celestial." Lifting her chin over her right shoulder, she raised her voice again. "Danny? Where's that basement you were talking about?"

 _'Danny'? You're on a first name basis with Dad?_

"Down here." Her father's voice echoed up from below. "I'm just clearing some stuff out of the way." There was a grunt of effort, then a pause. "What the hell?" The sound of something else being scraped tentatively across the ground wafted up to them, followed by another pregnant pause. " **JANESHA!"**

Merriment danced in Janesha's eyes and she immediately pinched her lips together, but couldn't hold back the snicker of laughter that caused her whole body to tremble. She sent Taylor an utterly devilish look, then cleared her throat and called, "Yeah?" as innocently as she could.

"Why the hell am I so strong?" Which was not a phrase Taylor had ever expected to hear from her father.

Janesha's grin only deepened. "What makes you think _I_ had anything to do with it?"

Rapid footsteps pounded up the stairs, and Danny entered the living room a moment later. The expression he wore was somewhere between exasperation and astonishment. "Don't you even try to play your word games on me, young lady!" He waggled his pointer finger at Janesha in a way that Taylor knew would have ended in her being grounded for a month if she'd been the on the receiving end of it. "I watched you rebuild my car from scratch, and you healed yourself of serious injuries after you woke up. Not to mention what you did to the talot."

"Isn't it just as likely you triggered after your traumatic ordeal?" Janesha asked sweetly.

The question would've had merit, if she could keep a straight face … which she couldn't. And then Taylor realised what she'd said. "Wait," she snapped, turning her full attention to her father. "Triggered? _What_ traumatic ordeal?"

Her father continued to scowl at Janesha for a moment, then shifted his focus to Taylor. He must have seen the panic on her face, for his expression softened and he raised both hands placatingly. "I'm fine, honey. Honest. Janesha had a … creature chasing her, and I distracted it long enough for her to get her second wind and beat it. That's all." His gaze narrowed and he swung back to their guest. "And while it's _technically_ possible I _might've_ triggered with powers, given your propensity to act without permission, I'm putting my money on you having a hand in it." He fixed her with a gimlet eye. "The truth, young lady. Right now. I'm not asking."

Janesha stared at him, then huffed and shook her head ever so slightly. "You are so lucky I like you, Danny Hebert, and if you want to know so badly, fine. After that stupid risk you took distracting the talot, I didn't want you dying unexpectedly because your frailty doesn't match up to your courage, so I made you as tough and strong as the people here can be." She gestured to Taylor. "I can do the same for her, if you want."

Danny gave her a suspicious look. "'Can do' or 'have already done'?"

Janesha screwed up her nose. "Will you stop anticipating my moves. It's really annoying!"

"Says the girl who periodically pokes around in people's heads and makes them do whatever she wants."

"I'm a celestial mind-bender! It's what I do!"

"And I'm a parent! It's what _I_ do!" Danny shot back. "How many times do I have to tell you, you just can't keep modifying people without getting permission. Or at least warning them first!"

"Hey!" shouted Taylor. "Stop! Everyone stop talking for _just one second!"_ She clutched her hands to her head, trying to keep her spinning thoughts in check. It didn't help that her agitated state was transmitting to the bugs in the area, causing them to act up and fly around.

"Sorry, Taylor," Danny said almost immediately, but not without a 'look what _you_ did' glare at Janesha, who gave him one right back, along with a poked-out tongue.

Taylor frowned. "So, you can make people do anything you want? Like the Simurgh?" It was her father's turn to snort, even as Janesha closed her eyes for a minute to breathe through flared nostrils. "What?"

Danny shook his head. "Don't get her started on the Simurgh, honey. They have a history … sort of. But yeah, where she comes from, her mental power's so common it's called mind-bending."

Taylor eyed Janesha suspiciously. "Are you reading my mind, now?"

"Surface thoughts only, at this stage." As she spoke, her eyes worked the room, pausing quite often on what appeared to be nothing. "Any chance you can calm down enough to get them under control? There's too many of them for me to deal with nicely."

"What are you talking about?" Danny asked, his own eyes skirting the room and failing to see the growing number of insects alighting on various pieces of furniture and swarming outside the window.

"Nothing," Taylor said hastily, at precisely the same time as Janesha did.

Danny's eyes flicked suspiciously between the two of them. "Uh-huh."

Which made the girls meet each other's eyes and smirk. Janesha then glanced pointedly at Danny and back to her and raised an eyebrow. As discreetly as she could, Taylor shook her head. She hardly knew what to make of her bug powers herself, without explaining them to her father. Using the eye furthest from Danny, Janesha winked again in silent solidarity and Taylor finally felt she had an ally in what had been her waking nightmare up till now. Just that knowledge allowed her to force her roiling emotions down, sending the bugs back where they'd come from.

Once that was accomplished, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Okay. Let's go right back to the beginning. Dad, you said you met Janesha while she was fighting a talot. What the hell is a talot, and what did you do to distract it, and what did Janesha do to it afterwards?"

Danny opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it again. He held up his finger in a 'wait' gesture and disappeared into the kitchen. While he was gone, Janesha leaned towards Taylor and murmured, "For my part, I killed it, so it's not a problem anymore." Then straightened up as Danny returned, as if she hadn't said a word.

In her father's hands was a metal figurine about four inches high. Wordlessly, he handed it to her. "Okay, this thing is _ugly,"_ she observed, looking at the creature from all angles. It had fangs, claws, horns and even spikes along its body. There were blades formed from the end of its tail. "This is a … 'talot'?" She looked between the two.

Her father nodded, but Janesha screwed up her face and shrugged one shoulder. "Was, at least partially," she said, which made no sense at all.

Taylor frowned at her father. "Where'd you even get this from? It looks really expensive."

He chucked humourlessly. "Janesha made it. Out of a part of the real talot that attacked her, and then tried to eat me after I got its attention. Imagine something like that, only the size of a tank. With a breath that could peel aluminum siding clear off the wall."

Taylor tried to imagine it. It wasn't a pretty picture. Then she turned to Janesha. "So, if you can kill monsters and make stuff and modify people, what's the difference between you and a cape? Because right now I'm not seeing much of one." If this was a dream, she decided, she may as well play along.

Janesha looked thoughtful for a second. "Because I'm a celest, and while you can mistake a celestial for a cape, but you'll never mistake a cape for a celestial. And no, you're not dreaming. This's as real as it gets."

"Janesha." Danny glared at the girl, who gazed innocently back. "What did I just say about reading other peoples' minds?"

"It's just the surface thoughts, Danny. Looking at surface thoughts is no more invasive then looking at someone wearing a tie and knowing half the ribbon is under the collar."

"Bullshit."

"Stop!" Taylor ordered again, raising her hands as if that alone could stop them from arguing. "Janesha, can you really read my mind any time you want?"

Janesha gave Danny one last annoyed look, then turned back to Taylor and nodded. "That and more, if I choose to. It's how we stay in control of mortals and lower level celests. It's called mind-bending, and almost the whole pantheon back home can do it. But just so you know, comparing a cape to me is like comparing a double-A battery to a nuclear power plant. Your capes are just mortals with some sort of celestial construct link-thing going on." She must have seen the confused look on Taylor's face, or seen it in her surface thoughts, because she shook her head and added, "I haven't been here long enough to figure out the specifics yet, but I recognise the handiwork of one of my kind when I see it."

Danny sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose just below his glasses. "Janesha, Taylor, how about you both take a seat?" He waved the girls towards the fold-out sofa against the far wall. Stepping into the kitchen for a moment, he carried a chair back into the living room. Putting the chair down across from the sofa with its back toward the girls, he sat down and crossed his arms across the back. "Taylor's still not well, and I'm guessing this conversation is about to get a whole lot more complicated."

Janesha and Taylor both slid down the back of the sofa into the seat as only malleable teenagers can. "The easiest explanation is also going to probably have you flipping out the hardest," Janesha said obscurely. "You wanted advanced warning, Danny, so here it is. If you can't handle what I'm about to say, I won't let you remember it." She looked at Taylor and added, "Same goes for you." Back to Danny. "You okay with that?"

Danny's lips pinched together as if he'd tasted something sour and he sat back up straighter in his chair. Taylor didn't know what to think.

Janesha shrugged and clapped her hands together. "Welcome to the bigger picture, my friends, where free will is entirely relative and only the most ignorant believe in it absolutely."

"So, what's the easiest explanation?" Taylor asked, not liking Janesha's gloating tone at all.

"I'm a goddess, petal. Or, at least, I will be in time to come, just as soon as my mom lets me."

Taylor looked at her father and knew the same gobsmacked expression was on her face. "Goddess," he repeated, slowly. "Like the Greek gods and goddesses?"

Janesha closed her eyes and chuckled to herself. "I forgot that'd be your go-to where female celestials are concerned." She opened them again at Danny, then swept them to include Taylor. "Yes, just like them, only they're not the only pantheon out there. Not by a long shot. They're not even one of the biggest realms. We are."

"And who is 'we'?" Taylor heard herself asking.

"Mystallians," her father murmured, almost to himself.

Janesha tipped her head in his direction. "Top of the class, Danny. The best way to explain the Known Realms is to compare it with your world. Every pantheon controls a realm, the way your ruling houses controls their respective countries. Insides those realms, the ruling pantheon is all-powerful. Like your American president, inside the USA. But if he was to, say, go to Mexico, his control diminishes to stuff-all except for what the Mexicans are willing to let him do."

"But we have embassies …." Danny argued.

"I know, and they're all well and good, but imagine what it'd be like if you didn't."

"Whoa, is that what it's really like out there?"

"Uh-huh, only worse, because while the pantheon in charge remains all-powerful, the visitors don't even have their powerbases to protect them."

"But if the Mexicans took the President prisoner, our military would go and get him back," Taylor said, wondering why in the world she was going along with this.

"As would ours," agreed Janesha. "And with my great grandmother leading the charge, we would absolutely get back our supreme rulers."

Danny frowned. "That's why you told Armsmaster if anyone ever figured out how to get to your family, they'd be so screwed."

Janesha nodded, with a laugh. "Yeah. My Uncle Tal has been known to punt worlds across galaxies when he loses his temper."

"You're serious?" The words fell out of Taylor's mouth before she could stop them.

"Very," Janesha answered. "Like I said, I haven't figured out the specifics of who's doing what here or how, but it's definitely the work of one of my lot. He, she or they have built a series of constructs up in your celestial realm, and I think they've somehow linked them to your parahumans here. It would certainly explain all of the divine enhancements your supers seem to have." She waved her hand at the walls around them. "If I'm right, everything powered that's happened to your world … your parahumans, the Endbringers, all of it … is because a celestial or a group of celestials like me got bored and decided to make your tiny little planet into their own private superhero story."

Taylor held up a finger. "Okay, that's me done," she said. "I draw the line at being accused of being a character in a book."

Janesha smirked. "I didn't say you were a character in a book. That's ridiculous, because then _I'd_ be a character in that book as well. You're real, and so is this world. You would've been here, or someone similar to you, with or without the celestial influence. We shape things and push them in certain directions, but we can't create life from nothing until we're established in that field."

"It's … certainly a colourful picture you're painting," Danny said, probably because he'd had more time to digest this craziness. "But why do you think these … _people_ like you, have been messing with our world?"

"Because I've seen this world before." Janesha gestured broadly again. "My cousin runs one almost exactly like it, and the odds of having two worlds so nearly identical in nature and history with all those crystal constructs in the celestial realm overhead are highly unlikely. Someone, or a group of 'someones', has taken my cousin's world, replicated it, added comic book superpowers for shits and giggles, then let it run to see what would happen next."

"Who the hell would do that?" Danny beat Taylor to the question, but only just.

Janesha shrugged. "Could be anyone. There are billions upon billions of celests in the Known Realms if you take all the commoners into account, and most if not all of them are capable of breeding." She rolled a pointed finger in Danny's direction. "But when I figure out who's behind it, you can bet your ass I'll be finding out what their game is."

"Does that mean there's a world out there like Earth Aleph, but with _no_ parahumans? No Endbringers? No Slaughterhouse Nine?" Taylor thought such a place sounded like the perfect place to live. "How soon can we move there?" _And get rid of my stupid bug powers while we're at it._

Janesha gave her a side-long look and shook her head. "Everywhere has its problems, petal, no matter where you go." She sniffed and thumbed towards the east. "Case in point. The only reason I came out here in the first place was to cool off after I got into an argument with Thor for stealing my great grandmother's glory, and he threw me out of Asgard when I called him out on it."

Danny choked. Or maybe Taylor was projecting, because she definitely felt like choking. "Are you seriously trying to say that the red-headed braggart you compared Armsmaster to was Thor, the Norse god of storms?" That was another question she'd never thought she would hear her father ask.

Janesha curled her lip in a sneer. "Trust me, those two assholes are a match made in the stars."

"From what I saw, Armsmaster would take that comparison as a huge compliment." Danny raised an eyebrow, daring her to refute it.

"I'm sure he would," Janesha agreed, rolling her eyes.

"So what could possibly be so bad in this other world? The one your cousin runs?" Taylor asked, not quite willing to give up on the fantasy of a power-free life so easily.

Janesha shrugged. "Stupidity and violence isn't a parahuman condition, it's a human condition. People flying planes into buildings, shooting up churches and nightclubs with automatic rifles, putting underaged kids in cages and selling them for sex … are you sure you want to trade one set of problems for another?"

"If your cousin is in charge of that world … and that's something I'm still getting my head around that by the way … why would she allow stuff like that to _happen_?" Danny asked, genuinely curious.

An icy look swept over Janesha's face and she turned to look at him as if he'd grown a second head, then pressed her elbow into the arm of the seat and leaned on it heavily. "Wow. Just wow. You've got a helluva set on you, Danny Hebert, I'll give you that."

Taylor's father seemed affronted. "Why?"

"Since the second I met you, you've been riding my ass about free will and not interfering with people, and the second … the _fucking_ second you hear things aren't the way you want them to be somewhere, it's suddenly our fault for _not_ interfering." She sat up and placed her hands together, then pushed them apart. "Make up your realm-damned mind, Danny. Which is it?"

Taylor saw her father's face flush, but he closed his eyes and breathed through it. "That's…actually a fair call," he grumpily admitted.

"My cousin agrees with you, incidentally, which is why her mortals do whatever the fuck they want. To me, it's dumb, but that's why it's her realm and not mine."

"World, you mean," Taylor said, hoping against hope that that was what she'd meant.

It didn't sound promising when Janesha sighed. "Her Earth—not Aleph, not Bet, just plain old Earth—is the crown jewel of her realm. Most of us live in the celestial realm and visit the mortal one on occasion, but my cousin and her people have chosen to live amongst the mortals permanently, on her Earth."

Danny lifted his chin. "So they do have capes?"

"The celestials on her Earth all fly under the radar." Janesha shrugged. "My cousin doesn't want anyone to know divinity is a real thing, because that'll give one pantheon a higher boost over all the others. The mortals of her realm work off faith alone, so anyone who visits has to either stay in the Prydelands, or pretend to blend in with the mortals as one of them."

"So how big is her realm?" That was Danny.

"It's more of a hobby farm than a working realm, actually. But it suits her needs." Janesha's voice was casual.

"How big?" Taylor didn't like the way the self-described celestial was dodging an actual number.

Janesha shrugged. "Three fifty …three sixty thousand … something like that, I think she mentioned once."

"Three hundred and fifty, to three hundred and sixty thousand _worlds_?" Danny exploded, just ahead of Taylor.

Janesha looked at them incredulously, then threw her shoulders back into the couch as a huge wave of laughter overcame her.

 _Oh, good,_ Taylor thought to herself. _For a minute there, I thought she was being serious._

"Of course not. Damn – not even Earlafaol's _that_ tiny!" She continued her raucous laughter, holding her sides with one hand as she wiped tears from her eyes with the other.

" _WHAT?!_ " Taylor wasn't sure who shouted it the louder, her or her father.

Suddenly, Janesha stopped laughing, her face dropping into a deadpan expression. "Oh. You two were serious." She looked from Taylor to Danny and back again. "Dang."

"What did you mean?"

Janesha waved the subject away. "Never mind…"

"No, what did you mean when you said three hundred and fifty, to three hundred and sixty thousand … _what?_ " Taylor insisted.

Janesha met her eyes and sighed. "Galaxies, petal. We measure mortal populations in galaxies." She turned her attention to Danny. "Remember how you asked me how fast Cloudstrike could fly?"

"Yes … ?" Danny ventured cautiously.

"On average, she can clear twelve galaxies a second when she's flying at full speed." Janesha leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. "And it takes a mystallion nearly twenty four hours to get from one side of Mystal to the other." The smile she gave Taylor's dad wasn't pretty. "How good's your math, Danny Hebert of Earth Bet?"

"Fuck … me …" Danny rubbed a hand over his eyes, then raked his fingers through his receding hair.

For once, Taylor didn't feel like digging in the kitchen cupboard for the swear jar for her dad to put a dollar in, since her thoughts were right up there with his. The only thing that kept her from panicking and calling Janesha a liar was one burning question. "What's a Cloudstrike?"

"Who," her father answered, before Janesha could. "Not what. You know the Pegasus from Greek mythology?"

"Who doesn't?" For some reason, Taylor was still waiting for him to jump up and say, _Gotcha! Janesha's a paid actress and this whole thing was to give you something else to think about besides what happened at school. Did it work?_

Instead, he sighed again. "Apparently, Pegasus was his name, not his breed. They're winged horses …Let me finish!" he barked, as Janesha appeared on the verge of butting in. The girl who had surged forward with a look of outrage then slumped back into the chair with a _hmph_ and folded her arms. "Because they're winged horses and their homeland's called Mystal, the species is called mystalli _on_ and the people are Mystalli _ans."_ He looked at Janesha. "That's right, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but do yourself a favour and don't ever call Cloudstrike a 'horse' within her hearing, or she'll get really mad. We have horses back home that the military use, and one of the herd's pet peeves is to be compared to those wingless wimps."

Danny turned to Taylor. "And don't call her a thing either. When I did that, she threatened to bite my arm off."

"They can _talk?"_ And here Taylor had thought her eyes couldn't go any wider.

Her father burst that bubble with a slight shake of his head. "Not in so many words. But she picked up a piece of concrete _in her teeth_ and crushed it into powder while looking daggers at me, so I kinda got the gist."

"Hypothetically speaking, what's stopping us from going to this other place your cousin runs and having a look around. We can always come back here if we don't like what we see …" Taylor's words drifted off as she saw Janesha pick uncomfortably at her bottom lip. "What's wrong?"

"Her family doesn't know she's here," Danny answered for her, shifting back into parent-mode now that they'd returned to familiar ground of teenage antics.

"More than that," Janesha admitted ruefully, leaning forward on her elbows again, this time to rub her temples. "I know you guys are both super-sceptical, and you both know I could change that if I wanted to, but you're not seeing the big picture here. My family tree is literally made up of _gods_. The rulers of Mystal are my Uncle the god of Life, and his twin brother the god of Death. I have an Aunt of Prophecy and an Uncle of Knowledge. My own great-grandmother's our goddess of War."

She pulled her hands away from her head and rubbed them together. "And, most importantly right now, I have an Uncle of Luck. At the moment, while I'm here in the middle of nowhere, no amount of good fortune is going to get him to me any faster than his mystallion can run. Which means if he wants me, he's going to have to ride all the way out here to get me."

Taylor wasn't sure if she knew where this was going. "But if you go to your cousin's?"

Janesha poked her tongue into her cheek and twisted her lips. "All celestials have the means to reach any blood relative instantly—no travel involved—provided the recipient is willing to accept them. If I was going to take you over there, it'd be a matter of me reaching out to one of my cousins and all of us going over there in a single step. But once there, there's no family here to bring us back. Not only that, but I can guarantee you ten minutes before we even decided to make that trip, Uncle Chance will have coincidentally found a pressing reason to be at my cousin's side, waiting for me to make that connection. No matter who I blood-linked to, he'll be standing next to them at exactly the right time to nail me. And the moment he lays eyes on me, I'm done."

 _Holy shit._ The absolute _certainty_ in Janesha's tone had all of Taylor's attention. "Are you going to be in trouble for being here?"

Janesha stretched and arched against the back of the sofa, as if there wasn't enough room on it anymore. "Don't worry about it. I'm in trouble either way, for making a dick of Thor in his personal longhouse and not going home when I'm supposed to have." She stood up and grinned down at Taylor. "Might as well see how much fun we can have before they turn up and lower the boom on me, eh?"

"Fun?" Taylor wasn't even sure if she knew what that word meant anymore. Though from the glint in Janesha's eye, the celestial girl certainly did. "What do you mean by 'fun'?"

Janesha's grin widened and she extended her hand to give Taylor a hand-up. "Well, _first_ I have to go and fix up the basement. Then I'm going to introduce you to Cloudstrike. Despite what your dad said, you'll like her." She tilted her head toward the doorway into the kitchen. "Basement's down there, yeah?"

"Yeah." Now on her feet, Taylor led the way to the top of the basement stairs. "Why do you need to fix up the basement?" She looked down at the contents of the cellar as illuminated by the tired yellow bulb; a dusty workbench, old cardboard boxes, a washer and dryer, and about a million cobwebs. Two of the larger boxes had been freshly moved.

"Well, Cloudstrike needs a place to stay," Janesha said reasonably, and vaulted over the rail. She landed on the rough concrete ten feet below with the lightest of thumps. Her cape, bearing the image in gold of a winged horse—a mystallion, her father had said—billowed outward before settling over her shoulders again. Belatedly, Taylor gasped in surprise, then looked up as a creak alerted her to her father's presence.

"You get used to it," he said quietly. "Earlier, just after the talot thing, the Merchants attacked us. I think they wanted to force her into their gang. Squealer had her latest monstrosity, like a tank with a bulldozer blade on the front. Janesha hit the blade so hard it bent in half and flipped the whole thing into the air. Then she _caught_ it and held it over her head like … like a plastic bucket. Between her and Cloudstrike, they cleaned up the gang like a babysitter putting the kids to bed early for being too noisy."

"Danny?" asked Janesha, drawing Taylor's attention. "Do you really need this workbench?" She gestured at the solid bench with the four-inch-thick wooden work surface, stained with grease and oil and the crud of ten years of neglect. A vise was bolted to it, though Taylor suspected the working parts were rusted solid. Other tools, similarly unused, lay here and there on it.

"Not really," Danny said. "I thought of moving it, but unbolting it … oh." The wooden rail creaked under his grip as Janesha took hold of the bench and lifted it away from the wall. Taylor hadn't heard any sound that might suggest something breaking, but she saw the bright clean circles of sheared-off bolts showing from the concrete wall. Moving as though the bench was a bulky load rather than a heavy one— _held the tank over her head like a plastic bucket, right—_ Janesha carried the bench and all its contents over to where Danny had originally stacked the boxes.

"Here should do it," Janesha said briskly, and put her hands up against the wall. With only the faintest of creaking (and Taylor privately suspected Janesha was doing _that_ to show off) Janesha pushed a rectangular hole back into the wall, about five feet high and twelve feet wide. As she did so, the floor beneath her feet slid downward into steps until she was three feet below floor level and still creating the impossible excavation back into the wall.

Slowly, Taylor came downstairs to watch as Janesha extended the basement outward. The extra area had a two foot wide stretch that was paved in granite flagstones, while the other ten by twenty area was soft soil. The walls were the same granite as the flagstones, and the ceiling appeared to be made of oak beams.

"Ugh, damn it."

Taylor frowned at Janesha's unhappy tone. "What's the matter?" Whatever was annoying the teenage celestial, it wasn't obvious to Taylor.

Janesha pointed at an area of the back wall of the new construction. The texture was different, more like concrete than granite. "Your neighbours have a basement, too. And it's in my way. I want this to be a good solid six metres, and I can only manage five without taking a chunk out of his."

Danny came down the steps. "Well, you can't just push into their basement. In fact, you really shouldn't be building under their property at all."

"Why not? It's not like they're using the space." Janesha drummed her fingers against the concrete surface. "What if I went over there and told them that their basement isn't as big as they think it is?"

"No." Danny's voice was flat. "No mind-bending."

"Alrighty then. _"_ Janesha shrugged. "But just remember, this is how you wanted it." Putting both hands on the concrete wall, she shoved. There was a crunching, grinding noise and abruptly sunlight was pouring down in through a broad, three-foot-wide gap in the ceiling above.

"What the hell?" demanded Danny. "What did you just do?"

"Since you wouldn't let me take any of his basement area, I shoved his whole house aside," Janesha explained patiently. The ground beneath her feet grew a stone footstool that lifted her toward the ceiling. When she placed her hands on it, the sunlit gap began to narrow dramatically. Within ten seconds or less, it had closed entirely.

"You _moved_ their _house?"_ Danny looked as though he couldn't believe his own words. "What were you _thinking?"_

Janesha frowned darkly at him. "I was _thinking_ that I needed an extra metre of space, but since _someone_ wouldn't just let me use mind-bending to get it, I had to go the more direct route that may or may not leave him a little confused. This is exactly why we use bending, Danny. To smooth things over so people don't freak out because they're suddenly faced with things they don't understand. His house is now a metre over, and the grass from that side is back over here on this side. Big fat hairy deal. If you're lucky, he won't notice, but if he does, what do I care? It's not as if he's gonna be able to move it back."

As she spoke, the stone footstool retracted and posts grew out of the ground, connecting floor to ceiling along the line of separation between the flagstones and the soil. Rails extended from post to post, leaving an open-topped gate where the ten by twenty enclosure abutted on to the basement. As a final touch, Janesha installed a trough full of water and a large net filled with sweet-smelling hay.

Danny closed his eyes as if in pain, and massaged his forehead with finger and thumb. "Do you think you could talk to me about that sort of thing first?" he asked.

"Why?" asked Janesha blankly. "Talking to you is what got that home owner into the predicament he's in. If I hadn't said a word and just done what I do, everyone would be happy." She waved him down with a soft swat of her left hand. "Don't sweat it, Danny. Mistakes happen and it should all shake out in the end. You mortals are very good at deluding yourselves into thinking that everything's exactly the way it should be." As a finishing touch, she caused a large and exquisitely-carved sign to manifest on the front of the stable. It read 'CLOUDSTRIKE'.

Something occurred to Taylor. "Uh, when you moved his house, you would've messed up his plumbing and stuff. That's gonna cause him problems."

Janesha shook her head. "Already took care of that. I rearranged his water pipes to make way for the move and for this stable. That's where I'm getting the water for the trough from. Don't worry. Cloudstrike doesn't drink _that_ much." Her smirk said otherwise. She caught Taylor's eye. "Anyways, I'm gonna go get Cloudstrike now. Wanna come with?"

Taylor was just wondering if Mr Henderson was really going to be okay with having his house moved three feet sideways when she registered Janesha's question. "Oh, wow, can I?" She turned to her father. "Dad, can I? Please?"

Danny's eyes were still wide and his face flushed with outrage, which meant the previous conversation of blame allocation wasn't as concluded as Janesha probably hoped. But then he shifted his focus to Taylor and his fury morphed into concern. "Baby, I'm not sure if you're well enough to go all the way to Scotland. It's really cold over there and …"

"Wait, what again now?" Taylor turned to Janesha. "Scotland? Why Scotland?" It seemed that every minute she knew Janesha, another mystery raised its head.

"Well, that's where I told Cloudstrike to wait for me," Janesha explained blithely, opening the small gate she'd built into the front wall of the stable and stepping through. "But we're not going there. In fact, we're not even leaving Brockton Bay." She turned to Danny. "She'll be safe. She's literally tougher and stronger than any cape in the city. Just like you. Remember?"

"Oh." Danny deflated slightly, then came back strong. "Well, don't go picking any more fights with villains. We may be tough, but we don't want official attention right now. Got it?"

"You don't want official attention. Got it." Janesha reached for Taylor's hand. "Ready?"

"Uh, okay." Taylor had just enough time to realise that Janesha hadn't actually said she _wouldn't_ pick fights with any villains when the black-clad girl pulled her forward in a step that took her _elsewhere._

Still clinging to Janesha's hand, Taylor swayed on her feet as she stared around at the thoroughly _alien_ landscape. A multitude of crystal outcrops, gleaming under a glowing sky, surrounded them on all sides. "Holy crap," she blurted. "Where _are_ we?"

"Proof that we're not in Earlafaol," Janesha said bluntly. "This is the celestial realm of your version of Earth. Where your gods, if you had any worthy of the name, would be residing." She looked around, frowning. "But the more I see this place, the more … yeah, that's what I thought." Now she was looking directly at Taylor. Specifically, at her head.

"What? What are you looking at?" Taylor felt a flush mounting her cheeks.

"You can't see that, can you?" With her free hand, Janesha pointed at an empty spot in the air. "No, you can't. Of course you can't. It's a celest thing. And it's something I've never seen before today, which makes it interesting as _fuck."_

"You're not making sense. What are you talking about?" Taylor stared at the spot until her eyes tried to cross, but she saw nothing except the alien crystals and the not-really-sunlight.

"Easy, petal." Janesha tightened her grip on Taylor's hand. "I'm gonna try something."

"Something as in something different? Different how? I don't see any … whoa." Taylor blinked. Between one breath and the next, there was a weird, twisty _rope_ extending from her forehead off into the distance. It coruscated from a weird green to a deep purple and back again, but when she waved her hand through it, it wasn't there. "What _is_ that? And why can't I touch it?"

"You can't touch it for the same reason that you can't bend minds or shift shapes or weave emotions," Janesha explained. "It's a celestial thing, not a mortal thing. Normally you wouldn't be able to see it, but I'm boosting your perceptions with divine intervention. Which, just incidentally, requires physical contact. Watch what happens when I do this." She let go Taylor's hand and the rope disappeared. "As for what it is, I have a pretty good idea, but I need to check a few things out before I do something about it. Anyway, we still need to go fetch Cloudstrike." She took hold of Taylor's hand again. "And … step."

This time, Taylor stepped forward with Janesha, and the scene changed again. She half-expected another alien landscape, but this was actually quite familiar to her. "The boat graveyard?" she asked. "What are we doing here?" Then she looked around to see vehicles with flashing lights and people clustered around a shattered heap of machinery, as well as a couple of wrecked vehicles. "And what's going on over there?"

"Remember that fight with the Merchants your dad told you about when he didn't think I was listening?" Janesha grinned at Taylor. "That's the aftermath. But we're not here for that." Turning, she faced to the east, out to sea, and put two fingers to her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she let out a whistle unlike any Taylor had ever heard before.

It shrilled in Taylor's ears and echoed off of nearby buildings, but she got the impression that she hadn't heard one-tenth of the actual whistle, especially when she saw the ripple-pattern on the ocean, spreading out like a fan. "There," said Janesha happily. "She'll be here in a moment."

"But—" Tayor wanted to protest, but she didn't know what to protest _about_ first. There was no way a whistle, however loud, would reach across the ocean. And Scotland wasn't even directly east of Brockton Bay. And even if it _was,_ Cloudstrike wouldn't hear it for hours because of the speed of sound, so—

* * *

The 'whistle heard around the world' was a phenomenon that crossed the Atlantic Ocean in a matter of seconds, propagating by some means unknown to science. Which, in practical terms, meant 'a cape did it'.

Trawler crews off the Grand Banks heard it. The pilots of airliners at fifty thousand feet over the British Isles heard it, despite the very latest in noise-cancellation headphones. Farmers in eastern Africa heard it (though they didn't tell anyone).

In the Pyrenees, a reclusive millionaire who was about to sign the papers to buy the most isolated chalet in the mountains so that he would be guaranteed peace and quiet, heard it and promptly cancelled the transaction.

Research divers investigating a sunken Roman-era ship heard it, three hundred feet below the surface of the Mediterranean.

In fact, there was not one creature or person within three and a half thousand miles of Brockton Bay, in the direction Janesha was facing, who _didn't_ hear it.

It deafened nobody. No avalanches were caused. No windows were broken. This was because it wasn't loud. It was just audible _._

Very, _very_ audible.

* * *

 **Scottish Highlands, a Few Moments Before**

* * *

"Maeve! Where's the camera?"

Maeve McKinnock looked up from where she was loading the dishwasher. "Jock!" she called back. "Ye wee idjit! You're supposed to be up here playing ghillie to relax and unwind, not go running around like the English are invading!" Straightening up, she closed the appliance and set it running. Living in a gamekeeper's cottage was romantic and all, but there was no way in hell she would've agreed to this holiday if it didn't have running water, electricity and most importantly, (in her view) the internet. Admittedly, it was a low-bandwidth connection, but it was better than nothing.

Jock stumbled into the cottage, panting heavily. "Camera," he wheezed. "Where is it?" He wasn't exactly fit, which was why the doctor had recommended they go on holiday.

"You've taken pictures of everything that would stand still for you, and a few things that wouldn't," she scolded him. "That's why the camera's still recharging. What's so important that you need to take a photo of it right now?"

"Horse," he managed. "There's a horse. Out there. Eating grass."

"That's what horses _do,_ you great pillock," Maeve explained, shaking her head. "And besides, it's probably O'Donnell's old nag from over the valley. They did say he likes to wander over this way from time to time."

He shook his head, still red in the face but not panting as hard now. "It's not O'Donnell's nag," he stated with absolute certainty.

Maeve raised her eyes to the hand-shaped wooden beams that comprised the ceiling of the gamekeeper's cottage. "And how would ye ken that, ye daft wee git? We've neither of us laid eyes on the blessed thing before today." She'd been a farmer's daughter before she moved to the city and married Jock, and when she was excited or angry, the country girl came back into her speech.

"Wings," he said. "It's got wings."

Sharply, she rounded on him. "And what has the doctor told you about indulging in whisky at this time of day?" she snapped. "It's the fresh air and good food you're supposed to be having, not the drink!"

"I haven't had as much as a dram all week, and you know it," he protested.

"If you're seeing horses with wings, then it's more than spring water that you've been drinking," she stated flatly.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. "Come see. You'll know I'm right." Grabbing her by the arm, he marched from the cottage, towing her with him.

Maeve was taller than Jock and stronger, but whatever he was talking about had now taken hold of her curiosity. She was certainly wondering how he knew without a doubt that the mystery horse did not belong to Fergus O'Donnell, or how he came to think it had wings.

And then, as he guided her to the top of the low hill near the cottage, she saw. Cropping the grass fifty metres away was indeed a horse, but it definitely didn't belong to Fergus O'Donnell. For a start, this was a young, strong animal at the peak of its strength; nobody with working eyes would call it a 'nag'. Secondly, it had a coat that gleamed gold in the weak winter sunlight. While she'd seen colour like that on a horse before, there was none like it within fifty kilometres, she was sure. And finally, of course, there were the wings. No animal on Earth had wings like that, especially not horses. _I'm stone cold sober and I see them too._

"Camera," she managed. "Have to get camera."

"That's what I was _saying,_ woman!" he retorted. His tone said much more, along the lines of _if you'd just listened to me, we'd have the camera now,_ but she wasn't listening.

Turning, she hurried back toward the cottage. "Don't let it go away!" she called back over her shoulder.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" he demanded. "Jump up and down really high?"

Ignored his sarcasm, she hastened into the cottage. As she'd told Jock, the camera was still recharging from his latest attempt at taking pictures of every last thing he saw up in the Highlands. Unplugging it, she noted that the battery had forty-three percent charge. _That will certainly do._

Being a practical woman, she set the picture to the highest possible resolution before she got back to the top of the hill. The last thing she wanted to do was still be fiddling with the camera when the winged horse decided to fly away.

It was still there when she came to the top of the hill again. Hands shaking, she raised the camera and framed the impossible creature in the viewscreen. Taking a deep breath, she began to press the button to take the picture.

Just at that moment, a distant whistle shrilled across the hills. As it echoed endlessly, the horse tossed its head and snorted explosively. She completed the tiny motion, her finger pushing the button home with a _click._ As the sound reached her ears, she realised that between one instant and the next, the horse was no longer there. It hadn't run off or even flown into the sky on those magnificent wings. It had simply vanished, as though it had never existed.

"What?" Jock stared blankly at the empty hillside. "Where did it go?"

Maeve carefully pressed the button that would bring up the last image captured by the camera. Silently, she showed it to Jock. The picture of the hillside itself was clear and sharp, but there was a blurry image in the middle of it. At the near end, it could almost have been a horse if she squinted. But that image smeared into a gold streak that vanished over the horizon to the west, all frozen by the camera in the instant she'd activated the electronic image capture.

"America?" she guessed. But even as she said it, she knew how ridiculous it sounded. _Why would something like that go to America?_

She guessed she would never know. In that, at least, she was correct.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

 _Clop-clop-clop-clop._

The sound, accompanied by a rush of wind, brought Taylor's head around. Her jaw dropped as she stared at the apparition before them. Her father had described Cloudstrike as a 'winged horse', but that in no way came close to doing justice to the beauty of the animal before her. The burnished-gold coat gleaming in the winter sunlight, the proud arch of her neck ... and the wings. Widespread and magnificent in blue and grey, they were only now folding in toward the mystallion's sides.

"—oh," she managed. "Oh, _my."_ She had never been horse-mad. In fact, she'd never _been_ this close to a horse before— _or a mystallion_ , she added hastily in her mind—but now she had some small inkling of how people could get that way. Though every horse she was ever going to see from now on was going to suffer considerably by comparison. "She's _gorgeous."_

Her father had warned her that Cloudstrike could understand her, and this appeared to be true; at her admiring words, the mystallion actually _preened._ Arching her neck proudly, Cloudstrike turned side-on and ostentatiously shook out her wings before furling them again.

"Well, yes," Janesha said, in the same kind of tone that others would use for saying _water is wet, sky is blue._ "She's a mystallion. They're all gorgeous. Of course, Cloudstrike is the most beautiful of them all, aren't you, my pretty?" Stepping up next to the mystallion, she snuggled her face into Cloudstrike's cheek while reaching up to scratch behind her ears.

Cloudstrike nickered, apparently in agreement, and rapped the concrete sharply with her hoof.

"Wow, I mean seriously," Taylor said. "I'm not surprised you guys get worshipped. Turn up on Cloudstrike, and there's probably people in Brockton Bay who'd line up to declare you their personal lord and saviour. Especially if you just happened to turn Hookwolf into a gerbil or something."

"We actually need that not to happen," Janesha said seriously. "Not the Hookwolf thing—the worship thing. I mean it. I'll talk it over with you and your dad later, but no talking to other people about gods or celestial worship. Okay?"

"Um, okay," Taylor replied dubiously. "So, uh, how are we going to get Cloudstrike back to the stable?" The obvious answer seemed too good to be true; she could see the saddle on Cloudstrike's back, but actually being allowed to _ride_ such a magnificent creature? It was beyond her wildest dreams.

Janesha grinned, and Taylor felt her heart leap in her chest. "Exactly the way you think we are," replied the celestial girl. "First, we climb on Cloudstrike's back. Then we go flying."

"You mean it?" whispered Taylor, an uncontrollable smile crossing her face. _Is this a dream? Good things don't happen to me. Especially things like this._

"If there's anything you should know about me, petal, it's that I'm a Mystallian." Janesha gathered up the reins and vaulted effortlessly into the saddle. Leaning down, she offered her hand to Taylor. "I've been taught to own my space since I was old enough to know what it meant. I say what I mean, and I mean what I say, and I don't say sorry to anyone, for anything."

Wonderingly, Taylor reached up, and felt her wrist grasped in an iron-hard grip. A single jerk upward, and she found herself seated on Cloudstrike's rump behind Janesha. Fortunately, she was just tall enough to look over the celestial's shoulder.

"Hold on tight," Janesha said cheerfully. "You won't get hurt if you fall off, but it'll be embarrassing as fuck for you and me both. You ready?"

Taking a deep breath, Taylor leaned forward slightly and wrapped her arms around Janesha's waist. "No, but let's go anyway."

She heard the grin in Janesha's voice. "I knew there was a reason I liked you. Cloudstrike— _hup!"_

Whether it was the vocal command or some other signal, Taylor had no idea. All she knew was that the mystallion's wings suddenly snapped up and outward, spreading wide before sweeping down again. And then … she knew what it was like to fly.

Holding tightly to Janesha, Taylor whooped with exhilaration as the ground fell away beneath them at a dizzying pace. She could feel the stretch and snap of Cloudstrike's muscles, and somehow she knew that this was the closest thing to a casual stroll that the mystallion could manage. _Twelve galaxies a second …_

They flew south over Brockton Bay, swooping lower and lower over the Boardwalk until the people below pointing up at them were almost recognisable. Taylor grinned so hard that her face hurt, barely able to believe that she was riding a creature from myth and legend, behind the daughter of a god. Even in a world with superheroes in it, this was a little over the top.

"So, you ready to—" began Janesha, then broke off. "Oh, hey. Heads up. Incoming local." She twitched the reins, and Cloudstrike banked slowly into a turn. "I think it's the one you call Glory Girl. Want to meet her, or are you good for now?"

One day ago, Taylor would've been thrilled to meet Glory Girl. She wasn't Alexandria, and she was pretty and bright and popular (not actually selling points for Taylor), but she was still a superhero. However, after meeting Janesha, the glamour of superheroes wasn't quite so shiny anymore.

While she was still trying to make up her mind, the gold and white figure slid in beside them, short cape flapping in her slipstream. "Hi there!" Glory Girl called chirpily. "Can I see your flying horse license, please?"

Even from where she was, Taylor heard Cloudstrike's displeased snort. "She's not a 'flying horse', she's a mystallion!" she called back. "She can fly twice around the city before you can get out your front door. Show some respect!" She knew she was understating Cloudstrike's capabilities by a huge amount, but there was no way Glory Girl would believe the facts. From the look on the heroine's face, she didn't even believe these ones.

"Oh, puh- _leeze,"_ Glory Girl retorted. "Your friend's got a nice line in costumes, but as far as I can tell, you're just along for the ride." She indicated Cloudstrike with a careless gesture. "And there's no way that anything with wings can fly like I can."

"Oh. Really." Taylor tightened her grip on Janesha's waist in anticipation, then raised her voice. "Cloudstrike, care to prove her wrong?"

Cloudstrike snorted again. Taylor felt she was getting to know the mystallion's moods; this time, she sounded happy. Her wingbeats increased in tempo and she slowly pulled ahead of Glory Girl.

"Oh, come on. Really?" The teen hero drew level with them again. "That the best you can do?"

"Not even close." That was Janesha; Taylor caught the flashing grin that she gave Glory Girl. "Cloudstrike … _tag."_

With a ringing whinny, Cloudstrike pulled a complete three-sixty degree barrel-roll around Glory Girl, ending up in the same relative position. Taylor had a brief instant to savour the blonde's shocked expression as a single wing-feather slapped her across the face, before everything disappeared in a _blur_ of motion.

When it subsided, Glory Girl was nowhere to be seen. So, for that matter, was Brockton Bay. The city below them was one Taylor had never seen. She leaned forward and raised her voice slightly. "Where are we?"

Janesha shrugged. "Search me. I'm not good at your geography." Shading her eyes with one hand, she pointed with the other (which was also holding the reins) at a very recognisable looking mountainous outcrop with a spread-armed statue atop it. "Well, well, well. Now there's a familiar face I wasn't expecting to see."

"Wait … I know this place too." Taylor stared at the outcrop as Cloudstrike banked lazily in that direction. "That's Mount Sugar Loaf. This is _Rio._ Holy fuck, we just went to Rio in about half a second." Then Janesha's words finally registered on her. "Hang on … you _know_ him?"

"Well, yeah." Janesha's voice was totally matter of fact. "He keeps inviting me over to his place to "catch up", but Heaven's one realm I'm not interested in messing with. If he wants to catch up with me, he can come to Mystal, where we have all the power."

"You mean he 'likes' you?" Despite sitting behind Janesha, Taylor couldn't help but waggle her eyebrows suggestively.

"Ewwww! Hell, no! Yuck! We are absolutely not into that crap!" Janesha did an all-over body shudder as she spoke. Then another one. "No, definitely not."

"So, it's just friends?"

"That's all he's angling for, though a few of my cousins in Earlafaol … that's my cousin's realm with the original 'Earth' ... would rather wring his neck then socialise with him."

"Why?"

"Because they followed their dad into the NYPD homicide division and every time the date you guys picked out for his birthday comes around, everyone goes absolutely bonkers and their workload quadruples. It's ironic when you look at it, I suppose."

"Why?"

Janesha sighed. "Because those NYPD cousins are also the great grandsons of the true ruler of Hell. Each of them has the power to be the anti-Christ, yet they spend a month of every year cleaning up the fallout made by that idiot's fake birthday. Meanwhile Yeshua hasn't been back there to lift one realm-damned finger to help since the mortals crucified him a couple of thousand years ago, and those nit-wits still think he's all-wonderful." She raised a hand and flicked it dismissively, shaking her head in annoyance. "Go figure."

"Wait." Taylor thought she'd spotted a flaw in what Janesha was saying. "If he's a celestial like you, how did they even …"

"Let's not get into that right now, petal." Janesha's voice was firm. "This is something I need to fill you and your dad in about at the same time. So let's put a pin in it for now, mmkay?"

"Um, sure, okay." Taylor was willing to go along with what Janesha said. Every time she thought she had Janesha figured out, she ended up with a curve ball like this. The biggest problem was, it made _sense._

Janesha turned in the saddle to look back at Taylor. "Anyway, should we do more sightseeing, or did you want to head home?"

More sightseeing was tempting, but Taylor knew her father would be getting worried. "Home, I guess. Hey, did you see Glory Girl's _face?_ That was hilarious. I didn't even know Cloudstrike could _do_ that."

Abruptly, they were in that other world again, this time hovering over the crystalline landscape. A single wingbeat forward, and they were in the underground stable. Cloudstrike's hooves sank into the soft earth and she looked around with a nicker of interest.

"Oh, hell, yes. It's how we play tag with mystallions." Janesha swung her leg across in front of her, and slid off Cloudstrike's back. Reaching up, she helped Taylor down as well. She smirked as she let them both out through the gate into the basement. "I think I'm gonna _like_ it here."

* * *

End of Part Four


	5. Chapter 5

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Five: Going Native

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by the author of Ties that Bind.]_

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

"Wow." Taylor put her cutlery down on her plate and pushed it away from her. "That was amazing, Janesha. Can you make any meal like that?" She stifled an incipient belch.

Janesha grinned. Braised pork with truffles was just one of a thousand meals she could recreate, now that her shifting ability had manifested. "My dad's a touch shifter from Rangi-Tuarea, so once I hit twelve my shifting ability came into its own."

Taylor tilted her head to one side. "Rangi- _where_ -a?"

A chuckle crept up Janesha's throat. "Realm of Oceanics. My father is the god of the Air in Rangi-Tuarea."

"This is going to sound really dumb," Danny said, leaning forward to put his elbows on the table. "But what makes one power more dominant than the other?" When Janesha looked at him, he cleared his throat and added, "That is…assuming you've had your mind-bending powers your whole life."

"Quick, as always," Janesha murmured. "Yeah, as powerful as my dad is, my mom's family are from the next tier up. One on one, outside their realms, mom trumps dad all day long. Range will always piss all over touch."

"Janesha," Danny scolded.

"What?" Looking at her host, one word leapt out of his surface thoughts. _Language!_ She couldn't help but grimace. "Oh, no," she groaned. "Don't tell me you're one of them..."

"One of what?"

Janesha raised both hands and made air quotes. "I do not approve of profanity in my presence, young lady." Biting back the not so idle threat that accompanied that phrase, she crossed her eyes and poked out her tongue, not appreciating the way Danny chuckled lightly.

"Heard that line before, have you?"

Janesha screwed up her nose and shrugged. "One of my aunts is like psychotically against bad language, and anyone who upsets her has to answer to my Uncle Avis. Not only that, but one of my cousins has the power to make damn sure you never want to use bad language in her presence ever again. They both suck for it."

Danny's grin lengthened parentally. "So, one of the queens of Mystal is against bad language?"

"She knows we all do it and doesn't try to stop us as a whole. We're just not allowed to do it around her."

"Any chance you can add me to that list?"

Janesha looked across the table at her host. He had no idea what he was asking. The only person to ever get a Mystallian to curb their language was the wife of Mystal's Life Court ruler. Celestials rarely made promises to mortals, and he had already drawn on his lifetime quota by getting her to stay out of his head. Well … his, and by proxy … Taylor's. Still, this didn't seem like too big an ask, provided he didn't want anything else. "I will attempt to curb it around you, Danny, but if I say it, you must let it go. Swearing is second nature to Mystallians, and it took one of our queens to make us curb it for just one person. Her."

"I can appreciate that, so I'll meet you in the middle. You _try_ not to swear around me, and I'll _try_ not to give you a hard time when it slips out."

"And I get to moderate both of you!" Taylor interceded, with a gleeful clap of her hands.

Janesha slid her eyes to Taylor, who looked from her to her left, where Danny sat, and back again. "Wow, that wasn't half creepy at all. You two looked like something out of a haunted house, the way you both turned that death stare on me."

"Going back to what you were saying about power," Danny lowered his hands and folded them loosely over the table.

"Yeah, well, there's three types of power for a celest. Mind-bending, shape-shifting and emotion weaving. There's not a lot of weavers about the place, so for now, we can leave them out of it. Each side has a three tiered system. Personal, touch and ranged. If a celest can trace their bloodline to a power tier, whichever side has the higher tier is the one that the child will be born with. The other, if it exists, will come in after puberty. That's why I got dad's touch shifting a couple of years ago. Since then, I've been able to recreate anything I want, as I want it." She waved across the empty plates. "Hence the meals. We have chefs back home that spend their whole lives applying their culinary trade to meet the approval of the pantheon, and once that's achieved, they are permitted to serve us. Every meal, I get to see what it looks like, taste what it tastes like. As a shifter, I'd have to rely on memory and probably get the replication wrong at some point, but since I'm primarily a bender, I can internalise, find the memory of any meal I've ever had, then re-enter the physical realm to reproduce it at will with shifting."

"So the higher the tier, the more powerful the power." Danny again.

"Exactly, and for every ranged celest, there are ten thousand touch celests, and a hundred million personal ones." She looked at Danny and smirked. "The personal ones make up the commoners, in case you were wondering."

"Common … celestial," Danny drew the words out slowly, then closed his eyes and shook his head. "Yet another thing I never thought I'd ever be saying in my lifetime." He breathed in deeply and opened his eyes again. "Keep that talk up, and you'll have your own crew of followers believing you're the Second Coming."

Janesha shuddered at the possibility, then realised exactly what he'd said. "Fuck that, no!" she said, throwing her hands away from the table as if the surface was coated in poison. "That is the one thing none of us can let happen, or everything will really go pear-shaped, worse than they already are."

Her adamant reaction got both her new friends' attention. "What do you mean?" Taylor asked.

"Celestials feed off belief. It's what powers us. So long as we have mortals believing in us, we take on all the powers and abilities of those beliefs." She tapped herself in the chest. "Right now, if I wasn't already a shifter, a celest could come along and drown me in the nearest bucket of water. But if I had believers that genuinely believed I could breathe underwater, I'd suddenly be sucking in that water like air. Now, blow that stupid little example into the bigger picture of extreme capabilities. Celestials shape the mortal realm, but mortal belief is what shapes celestials into gods. Get it?"

"O…kay." Danny scratched his head. "So, assuming from your violent reaction that this is a two-way street, what's the downside?"

 _Smart, Danny Hebert. Very smart._ "The downside is that unless the celestial is _very_ careful in how she presents herself to the mortals, ideas might creep in that she never asked for and never wanted. Those unwanted limitations, vulnerabilities or behavioural issues will be forced upon us by the belief of our mortals. In essence, it _becomes_ us, and we don't get a say in it. In fact, we don't even care. As far as we're concerned, our thrall is perfectly natural and we don't _want_ it to change."

"That … sounds very dangerous," Danny noted. "Is it possible for people to _manipulate_ what goes into your thrall, just to screw with you?"

Janesha blinked, genuinely impressed. Most celestials didn't even think to ask that question. Of course, some had, and a few of those had gotten the answer 'yes'. Instinctively, Janesha went to her own debilitated Uncle Blagden for an example of how badly thrall could grab a god by the balls, but changed her mind. _Let's go with one you've probably heard of, if your constant referencing of the Almighty is anything to go by._ "Have you ever heard of Uriel, the Archangel of Vengeance in Heaven?"

Danny looked thoughtful. "I've heard of him as an archangel, but I didn't know that last part."

"What other designation would you give the crown prince of Hell?"

"Whaaaaat?"

"Nevermind." _Too much information, fuckwit_ , she chastised herself. "The point is, he has a strong powerbase of vengeance, and he is very good at what he does—nailing tongues to rafters, skinning people alive…et cetera, et cetera."

"Ewww," Taylor made a repulsed face. "Gross."

Janesha shrugged. "It is what it is, and we're getting off point again. Uriel is no relation to me, but he is related to those NYPD homicide cops I told you about before. Two of them are the realm's greatest wise-asses, but they're smart enough to not attack anyone from the celestial realm frontally. They'll come at us from the side. Uriel is their great uncle, but somehow, somewhere along the lines, he pissed them off." Envisioning the rest of the story that was yet to come, Janesha's body shuddered as she tried to hold in the laugh. "One in particular decided to print a book about guardian angels and what they would do for you, if you prayed to them for help."

By now, tears were building in the corners of her eyes and her lips were pinched so tightly she could barely speak. It really was that damned funny.

"Oh dear," Danny said, apparently seeing where this was going.

"So yeah, people started praying to Uriel, the Heavenly Archangel of Vengeance, to help them pick out their white goods." Her chest started to cramp from holding in the laughter. "And he did!" Unable to hold it in anymore, Janesha threw her head back and roared with laughter. If Uriel ever found out she was spreading that story, he'd be paying her a visit, but damn, it was worth it.

"People prayed to him to help him pick out a washing machine, and he just did it?" Taylor's brow creased in disbelief.

"If he was within five meters of the dipshits, yeah. It wasn't until after he got out of range that he snapped out of it, and at first he was really confused by what had happened. And then it kept happening. After a while he figured it out, and at that point my cousin was lucky to get out of that alive. Belial sent in a demonic horde to purge the world of that belief. Or at least, I heard he threatened to, but my cousin – the one who's actually in charge over there, straightened it all out by removing their desire to worship Uriel in that capacity."

"I thought you said she didn't interfere with the mortals."

"They were already interfered with by her sons. If she didn't fix the mess, Belial would've executed a purge of the believers, and in her mind they didn't deserve that."

"By purge, you mean … kill?"

Janesha stopped laughing long enough to shrug at Taylor's naivety. "Welcome to the big leagues petal. I wasn't kidding when I said my Uncle Tal kicks worlds across galaxies, and not all of them are uninhabited." Looking at their horrified expressions, she suddenly felt the need to explain. "When you chop a tree out of your front yard, do you suddenly stop and cancel the landscaping contract because there's an ants' nest in one of the branches? Or do you feel sorry for those ants when they swarm you in defence of their home? Or do you swear, shake them off, curse them for even being there in the first place and keep going? It's not my intention to upset you, but I told you how big Mystal is, and you want us to care about a few thousand people on one solitary world? A world that has billions of people to take the place of that handful, and will before the decade is out?"

"I don't like being compared to an ant," Danny grizzled, gaining a nod of agreement from Taylor.

"But you still see what I'm getting at?" Again, both nodded. "Then I'll get back to how celestials have to be very careful about how mortals worship them. Now, keep in mind, this all happened long before I was born, but the Asgardians have built in what I think has to be the most ridiculous flaw a pantheon could ever instil in their worshippers. They have their mortals believing that without the golden apples of immortality, their pantheon will wither and die. How dumb is that?"

Taylor frowned, and Janesha could see in her surface thoughts that she was struggling to keep up. "But … they're still around, right? After thousands of years?"

Janesha chuckled. "Billions of eons, actually, petal. They've been known on _Earth_ for a few thousand years, and then only because of my cousin's generosity. Anyway, the Asgardians maintain their long lives with Idun's golden apples. She supplies them, they eat them once a year, and that's what gets them to live through the next year. That, right there, is a monumental screwup, but try telling _them_ that and all you'll get is a blank stare. It's simply impossible for them to break away from their thrall long enough to see how stupid it is." She shrugged. "And that's the downside to power. Thrall." Her expression sharpened. "Which is why we keep a close eye on any prophets, so that we know for certain that they're saying what we _want_ them to say. If we don't nip that made-up crap in the bud and people take it onboard, we suddenly find ourselves perfectly okay with it."

"Hmm … okay." Danny took his glasses off and cleaned them. "So, I'm assuming you don't want anyone to know you're a celest while you're here then, correct?"

Janesha nodded. "Yeah, you know the saying. Great place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here."

"So, say someone was in thrall. How do you fix it?" Taylor asked.

This was the part Janesha didn't really want to go into detail about, as it went hand in hand with destroying a powerbase as well. "You can't do it yourself. That's rule number one. But I heard my Uncle Avis was a very different god back before he met Aunt Clarise, and the whole realm had to come together while he and his young family hid out in Olympus. Even with everyone and their powerbases involved, it still took nearly a year for every mortal to have their thoughts realigned to the newer version of Uncle Avis: The one where he was a devoted family man."

"What was he before?" Taylor asked, genuinely curious.

Janesha shrugged again. "I don't have any personal experience. But … from what I was told … he was a bastard through and through, though he'd hand me my ass if he ever heard me calling him that." She hoped they would take the good out of that conversation, and not realise the same could be said about a powerbase.

"With your propensity to kill mortals that annoy you, why go to the trouble of changing them all?"

She should've known Danny wouldn't miss it. "Because the whole pantheon relies on those mortals. Not just one person. That's why we're all so defensive of our borders."

"I can see a problem there," Danny said slowly. "If someone planned it out carefully, they could be half a world away when they start the worship and jerk you around by remote control." He turned a worried glance on Janesha. "And your little jaunt to Rio got as much attention as that whistle you let out over the Atlantic. Sightings in Princeton, Bermuda and half of Brazil. What if even _one_ person decided to worship you? We've got idiots worshipping the _Endbringers,_ for crying out loud."

"Remember what I said about five meters. A worshipper needs to be kept within five meters for the powerbase and thrall to remain in effect. Attunement is what changes individual belief into a collective thing. Putting it into simple terms, when the presence of a celestial filters through all aspects of the mortal realm, instead of a drop of ink on paper, it becomes a drop of ink in water. But for that process to be done right, it takes a really long time. Centuries of centuries at least."

"Okay, so bottom line: no telling anyone you're a celestial," Danny noted. "We probably shouldn't tell anyone you're living here with us either. No matter how you cut it, your power is going to get a lot of attention."

"There's a good chance that Halbeard knows I'm here, and he's already told his boss," Janesha reminded him, and was rewarded with a wince. "Oh, come on. 'Halbeard' is a perfect nickname for him. No, I got a better one. 'Two-sticks'." She chuckled at her own wit.

"I know I'm going to regret this," Taylor ventured. "'Two-sticks'?"

Danny gave Janesha a forbidding scowl. "One covers the halberd in one hand, and the other right where you might imagine." He shook his head. "Maybe I should add implied profanity to that wish list, and please don't call him that to his face."

"Where I might imagine?" Taylor frowned in puzzlement. "What does that … oh. _Oh."_ She screwed up her face in disgust. _"Ew."_

"Puerile teenage nicknames for well-known superheroes _aside,"_ Danny said grimly. "The good thing about our world having parahumans, is you fit right in." He shot her a pointed look. "Provided you tone it right the hell down."

"Which reminds me," Janesha said. "When would be a good time for me to get rid of those stupid ships and fix up your port?"

"Keeping in mind that you want to stay within the capabilities of regular superheroes?" Danny shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know. Parahumans are very capable physically, so I guess it would be alright to clean it up over a day or two …"

Janesha screwed up her nose. "Really? That's … what you consider fast?"

Danny nodded, his expression becoming stern. "It's plenty fast enough, Janesha. And whatever you do, don't even hint that you can bend the minds of people to your will. I mean to anyone. In fact, don't mind-bend anyone at all if you can help it. If people know you've done it, they'll … misunderstand."

Janesha felt as if she was talking in circles. "What part of bending makes you think anyone remembers anything I don't want them to remember?"

"That's not the point."

"It kinda is," Janesha mumbled, folding her arms.

"I mean, _we_ know we can trust you," Taylor said, her tone earnest with a heavy dose of placation. "But what if other people see what you're doing, and you don't notice it?"

Danny thumped himself firmly in the chest. "Like I did, when I knew … I flat out _knew_ you'd messed with Armsmaster before you admitted it."

Taylor looked at Janesha in shock. "You messed with _Armsmaster_?"

"He was being a pushy dick and wanted to steal the credit for our work. I just made him behave himself, that's all."

"It doesn't matter what you did. What matters is I figured it out, and if I figured it out, others will too. You're the one that wants to fly below the radar as far as being a celest is concerned."

"But I'm a bender – first and foremost. It's how I get most of my shit done."

"You're also a shape-shifter," Taylor pointed out. "And nobody's scared of shifters like they are of mind-reading and mental control."

"They should be," Janesha said, snarkily. "After all, I can turn anything to dust with a touch."

"That's still more acceptable here than mind-bending. You may not like it, but thanks to the Simurgh, that's the way it is." She could see in Danny's surface thoughts that he hoped that would be the last time he'd have to say it. Ironically, she knew she could arrange it just by ordering him to never bring it up again. Unfortunately, he'd earned her respect and gratitude. More to the point, he'd freely invited her into his home as a guest without expecting anything in return, so in her mind, he'd earned the right to choose.

"So when do you want me to start?"

"Tomorrow morning, maybe?" Danny offered. "Unless you have more pressing matters to attend to?"

"Could we shoot for the afternoon?" she asked, after a moment's thought. "Once I get back from school."

 _That_ got a reaction.

"What?" asked Taylor.

" _School?"_ blurted Danny.

" _Really?"_ That was Taylor again.

The two Heberts looked at each other, then at Janesha, then back at each other. It reminded her of Uncle Avis and Uncle Amaro, when they'd both turn to talk to the same person at the same time. She'd wondered at the time if they even knew just how terrifyingly intimidating that was. _Of course they know. That's why they do it._

"I'm guessing she didn't discuss it with you, Taylor," Danny said. "I know she didn't talk to _me_ about it." He eyed Janesha firmly across the table. "So why the sudden urge to visit our schools? I'm almost certain we're not teaching anything you'd find useful."

"Never said they were," she agreed, perhaps a little more darkly than she intended. "But I definitely want get to know certain people there. Someone deserves to have their asses kicked for what happened to Taylor, and shifting-wise _just for you, Danny,_ I'm happy to supply the oversized boot to their backsides."

Taylor froze up. "You … want to go to Winslow … on your own?" She looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "I think that's a very, very bad idea."

Danny seemed to catch her drift a moment later. "Oh, of course. There's the Empire, and you're not of their favourite skin tone. Very bad idea. Stupendously, horrifically bad idea for a person of colour to go there ..."

The bluff might have worked, had she not already been in full possession of what the 'Empire' consisted of. "What the hell makes you think I can't handle a bunch of mortal bigots by myself?"

"Oh, I'm sure _you'd_ be fine," Danny said brusquely. "It's the _school_ that'll probably be a smoking crater by the time you were finished with it, if I'm any judge."

"Probably be an improvement." Realising exactly what she'd said, Taylor suddenly brightened. "Actually, that's a really good point. Dad, we should let her go." When he turned to her in incredulity, she tried to look innocent and failed badly.

"No." Danny's voice was flat. "Not. Happening." He gave Janesha a look very much like one of her uncles disapproving of her part in some prank or other. "Not without someone along to keep an eye on you, anyway. I'd give it five minutes before you started using your powers, and ten before someone started worshipping you. Subtle, you're not."

"I can be subtle!" Janesha protested. "I'm a mind-bender! Subtle is what we _do!"_

Danny had a devastating line in raised eyebrows. The only one better she'd ever seen was Uncle Tal. "Really? Just _today,_ you picked up a tank and juggled it in front of Armsmaster, let out a whistle that people heard in _London,_ flew from Brockton Bay to Rio in the blink of an eye, and shoved our neighbour's house three feet sideways. Was that you being subtle? Because if that's the case, I'd hate to see you being _overt._ "

"That house thing was only because you wouldn't let me mind-bend your neighbour into accepting a smaller space," she insisted. "That's on you."

"You know, I've never met this cousin of yours that runs the other Earth, but already I understand where she's coming from," Danny rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he spoke. "If it's a choice between having celestials nudging our minds every which way to suit their idea of morality or going our own way and to hell with it, I'll pick free will, thanks. What faith in a higher power I ever had, I lost when my wife passed away. Nothing I've seen since has given me any reason to change my mind."

"That's because there's never _been_ any gods, or even celestials, on _this_ Earth except the one who set it all up," Janesha explained, trying to hold on to the last strands of her patience. It wasn't easy. "Well, there is at least one, but until I meet them, I won't know what their game is."

"And you seriously think I'm going to let you go anywhere near Winslow? A place renowned for chewing up and spitting out _ordinary_ kids, not to mention that there's neo-Nazis who'd do their best to shank you just for your skin colour, and you think I'm going to believe that you _won't_ be using your powers on all and sundry?" asked Danny sarcastically. "No dice."

Janesha sucked in the right side of her lips between her teeth as she applied her Uncle Avis' habit of mentally counting to ten to stay in control. The urge to shred him for the audacity of assuming she needed his permission to go anywhere, or that his belief in what she would and wouldn't do once there should have had any kind of bearing on her decision was overwhelming. _This is Danny. Danny is a friend. Danny is human. Danny means well. Danny saved your life. You can't kill Danny for being an arrogant fuckwit._ That last once she repeated three more times, to get her rising temper under control. Once it was there, she breathed out slowly and said, "What if Taylor came with me?"

"No." Danny's voice was flat. "She's still recovering from the _last_ time someone pulled shit on her."

This time, Janesha let her sigh be audible. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not a weaver in any capacity, but if Taylor was willing, I can alter the bad memories slightly so they don't hurt to think about anymore."

Taylor blinked. "What?"

Janesha poked herself in the chest. "Mind. Bender. I can go into your head, find the memories of what happened to you and make it seem like it happened ten years ago instead of last week. Still there, you still know what happened, but it lets you get over it a lot faster."

Danny opened his mouth as if to object, then closed it again. He frowned at her. "Just like that?"

Janesha was really not used to being questioned, and she went back to her earlier mantra to avoid an unpleasant outcome. "Yeah," she said patiently. "Just like that. I could just as easily remove the memory altogether, but then everyone else would remember what happened that day except Taylor, and that makes for even more complications without a weaver on hand to smooth everything over."

"Dad, can I? Please?"

"Are there any side effects?" asked Danny. "Will she lose other memories or something?"

 _Congratulations, Danny. Three times in as many minutes. And this is why we don't give mortals our word._ "Seriously. _Not_ your version of Simurgh. The only thing that's gonna happen is what I say is gonna happen." She gave them both an encouraging smile. "Just think of it as six months of therapy. Only without a huge bill at the end of it."

"Taylor?" Danny looked hard at his daughter. "Do you really want to go through with this?"

Taylor nodded. "If it makes me feel even a little bit better, _hell_ yes."

"Okay, then." Danny sighed. "I'm not feeling _great_ about this, but if it'll help Taylor …"

"I can absolutely guarantee it," Janesha assured him. She didn't bother asking if Taylor was ready: if she wasn't, it didn't matter. Permission achieved, she dived straight into Taylor's head.

* * *

Finding the requisite memory was remarkably easy. The conversation had brought up the incident in Taylor's mind, which gave Janesha a direct link back to the actual event. She walked through it, almost frame by frame, taking careful note of who showed up in Taylor's field of view. Certain people seemed to spring out at her, which meant Taylor had been paying more attention to them than the others. A girl as redheaded as Cousin Cora and her son, another girl as petite as Aunt Clarise (though without the golden irises and jet-black hair) and a third girl with skin as dark as Janesha herself.

"Okay, then," she mused to herself. "Let's see who these people are." Latching on to the redhead, she followed the memory link back to happier days. From there, she skip-jumped through the related memories, following a path of betrayal and spite that made her want to strangle a certain Emma Barnes. Or turn her into a constipated gerbil, whichever gave her more satisfaction at the time.

Next, was the girl labelled 'Madison Clements'. Madison had only showed up once Taylor entered Winslow, and she seemed to be more of a toady than an instigator. One of those "yeeeah," girls she'd seen around the place. Still, Janesha made a note of the name and face and added it to the list she was creating.

Third was Sophia Hess … _wait a minute._ Janesha had heard that name before, but not with enough clarity to identify it. The girl was an outright bully, but Danny had never heard of her. That much she was certain of, because of his overprotectiveness toward Taylor now. If he knew Taylor's nemesis by name, it would've been the most prominent thing in his surface thoughts, along with ways to get even. Which meant, the source of that name was Armsmaster.

Janesha needed to internalise again, for the fourth time that day regarding that hypocritical asshat, and to do that, she needed to be inside her own mind.

Withdrawing from Taylor, Janesha immediately turned her thoughts inward, allowing maybe a tenth of a second to pass in the physical realm. She skimmed over Armsmaster's knowledge, until an hour later, she had what she was looking for. And it made her even madder. "Mother _fucker!_ " she swore, freezing an image of Sophia Hess as Shadow Stalker. "You wanna pick on someone smaller and weaker than you, bitch? Someone I happen to now give a shit about? Oh, two can play that game, you little fucking peon!" Janesha stayed just long enough to absorb every facet of Shadow Stalker's powers before retreating to her imagination. There, she created several imaginary versions of the girl known as Sophia Hess and ended each and every one of them. Twenty minutes of literally tearing the Hess girl to pieces had her calm enough to return to the outer edge of her consciousness and leap back across to Taylor. Another tenth of a second passed in the meantime.

She went back to the original memory, dulling down not the fear itself, but the memory of the fear, until she knew Taylor was almost indifferent to the entrapment. Yes, the locker incident was a bitch act. Yes, happened. Yes, she was hospitalised afterwards. Yes, she now had powers of her own as a result. Moving on.

As she played it through one last time to make sure everything was just as she wanted it, Janesha noticed something strange. There was not one, but _two_ blocks around several seconds of Taylor's memory, acquired in relatively quick succession. _Okay, this is fucking weird. The celest in charge erased her memories while she was_ _ **inside**_ _the locker? Why the fuck would he do that?_

Going over the blocked memories, it was almost too easy to peel them back, which meant whoever instigated them was at the very least a lower-generation bender than she was. It didn't take her more than half a second to peek under the first block.

The memory wasn't Taylor's. It was a modified memory, more like a hallucination of outer space, with weird slug-like creatures twisting and turning around each other. _Are they mating? Ew._ Just as abruptly, the hallucination had ended with no real explanation of why it had been there and what the bender had wanted with her mind. The second block covered more of the same, only it seemed the dance of the slugs seemed more intense, this time. Was that what the celestials in charge of this place looked like? Giant space slugs? With shifting blood, anything was possible shape wise. But why implant the memory, only to hide it again? That was the part that made no sense to her.

On a hunch, she replayed the memory between the two blocks, and found her mortal friend had started showing the first indications that she could communicate with bugs. Or rather, she'd started getting signals from them at this point. Of course, she didn't know what they were, and combined with the trauma from being locked in the locker, she'd worked herself into a frenzy over it. _Huh. I wonder if the first block's related to her getting a link to whatever celestial construct gives her those powers?_ She wasn't sure what the second block was about; maybe a patch of some type?

In any case, Janesha had found out quite enough for the moment. She resealed the implanted memories behind their blocks, ran the altered memories through one last time, then withdrew to the physical realm with the sense of a task well done. _Of course, now I have to convince Taylor that I've actually done something …_

* * *

"So when do you want to start?" asked Taylor, a little apprehensively. "Do you need me to lie down on the sofa or something?"

Janesha didn't have the heart to tell her it was already done. And then she thought of a way to kill two birds with one stone. "No, though you need to sit still with your eyes shut," —Janesha leaned forward and placed her hand on Taylor's forehead— "And count backwards from ten for me."

Obediently, Taylor shut her eyes and began counting.

Janesha waited until 'one', then used her shifting to put a full stimulation wave through Taylor's body. Many mortals called it 'the Touch of the Divine' and they weren't wrong. A single pass brought every cell in the body to its optimum capacity. Shifters did it to themselves all the time, but only those who were either touch or ranged were able to offer it to another.

Taylor's eyes flew wide open as Janesha took her hand away. "Oh, _wow!"_ she gasped. "I feel amazing. Like … I just had the long hot shower to end all hot showers."

Janesha smiled, knowingly. "How do you feel, in your head?"

Taylor blinked; in her surface thoughts, Janesha watched her prod cautiously at the subdued memory of the locker. " … huh," she said. "It's like you said. I know it happened, but it's not all over my thoughts like it was before. I can ignore it. I can even forget it if I want to."

"That's the general idea," Janesha told her. "But it's up to you to keep it that way."

"Huh?"

"My changes only involved your past. If you convince yourself to go back to remembering it with the fear you had before, I won't be able to stop you. Well, I could, but I won't."

Taylor pulled a face. "As if I'd _want_ to go back to remembering that stuff."

Janesha sat back in her chair with her arms stretched in front of her. "So, how do you feel about being my native guide in the wilds of Winslow?" _Now that I know exactly who I'm aiming for._

Taylor looked thoughtful, then her eyes narrowed. "Am I still as tough and strong as you said I was?"

It didn't take mind-bending to figure out that Taylor seriously wanted to punch out Sophia Hess. To answer her, Janesha picked up the salt shaker and performed a trivial modification on its material and crystalline structure. "Squeeze this as hard as you can," she ordered Taylor, with a smile to take the edge off the command.

With a dubious look on her face, Taylor took the altered shaker and squeezed it with one hand. Predictably, it shattered, then the larger pieces crunched to dust as her hand closed farther. "Okay," she said as she opened her hand to view the remains. "What did I just break?"

"Diamond," Janesha informed her with just a hint of smugness. "And not any of that artificial crap with flaws in it, either. I do good work."

The look on Taylor's face was priceless. Danny's wasn't far behind. He picked up one of the fragments left behind and crushed it between finger and thumb. "Diamond," he repeated with a hitch of his eyebrow, dusting his fingertips together. "Should I be impressed or worried that we can crush diamonds with our bare hands?"

Janesha shrugged. "That's up to you. But to answer your question, yes, you are as strong as I said you'd be. But before you consider throwing a punch at a certain trio's faces, just remember I'm not established in the field of Life. That means, they stay very dead if you punch their heads off their shoulders."

"Oh." Taylor slumped a little. "Could you make me a bit _less_ strong, then? So I can punch people without killing them?"

"How about we get through the day without punching _anyone?_ " Danny suggested. "Just as an idea. The last thing I want is Winslow suing me for the money they gave us, on the grounds that you're bullying people."

Taylor looked outraged. "But Dad, they're bullying _me!"_

"I know, honey. I know." He raised his hands defensively. "But getting any sort of concession out of those people is like pulling teeth. I swear, if they'd had half a chance, they would've accused you of shutting _yourself_ in that locker."

"It's all right, Danny." Janesha gave him a reassuring nod. "If anyone tries anything stupid, they'll break their hand on her jaw. In the meantime, I'm just going to have a quiet word with the people who think it's a fun idea to screw with her." _For a given definition of 'quiet word', of course._

Danny regarded her thoughtfully. "I find myself strangely all right with that idea. Have you fiddled with my mind when I wasn't looking?"

Janesha snarled violently and shot him a lethal look while holding up one finger. "Accuse me of that one more fucking time, after I gave you my word I wouldn't," she warned, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Okay … okay…" Danny raised his hands and patted at the air placatingly. "Calm down, Janesha. I didn't mean anything by it …"

Much of Janesha's rage subsided with his acquiescence, though her eyes were still slitted in his direction. "Don't ever do that again, Danny Hebert of Earth Bet, or friend of the Mystallians or not, it won't end well for you."

Danny cleared his throat. "Right. Okay. Good to know. Taylor and I are off-limits without permission, and everyone else only gets bent if nothing else works."

"I will try other avenues first," Janesha quantified. Her exact agreement was 'other things' including stuff she knew wouldn't work. She had no intention of trying _everything_ else first. Fuck that. With the resources she had access to, trying 'everything' would probably take a few centuries, and she didn't intend to be here for that long.

For all that he obviously respected and believed her, it took Danny's natural cynicism a few moments to accept her words at face value. "Okay," he said. "Keep Taylor safe, please?"

"Of course," she assured him. "Anyone stupid enough to try anything on her will think they've been jumped by the brute squad themselves."

Whatever reaction she'd been expecting—puzzlement, mainly—the chuckle from Danny wasn't it. "I would never have picked you for a _Princess Bride_ fan," he observed.

"A what now?" she asked.

"The brute squad – from the Princess Bride movie." An image of the lumbering mortal from the movie flashed across Danny's surface thoughts, causing Janesha to cover her eyes and emit a deep groan. "Seriously? You're comparing the most dangerous, Highborn Hellion fighting force, with a movie about human princesses?"

"Not just _any_ movie about princesses," Danny said, the grin on his face widening. He looked at Taylor. "Honey, it looks like she's never seen _The Princess Bride."_

Taylor nodded. Her expression was serious, but there was a twinkle in her eye. "It does look like that. Should we put it on?"

"Oh, definitely."

Janesha looked from one to the other. _What have I got myself into?_

* * *

 **Two Hours Later**

* * *

"So," asked Taylor as the credits began to roll. "Did you enjoy the movie?"

Janesha stifled a fit of giggles. "Inconceivable!"

"I do not think that word means what you think it means," Taylor intoned solemnly, which of course set Janesha off again.

"That was an insane movie," she said when she could speak again. "I am not left handed either." Remembering the cordial fighting scene, Janesha laughed and slapped the side of the chair. "I could so see my great-grandmother doing that to someone who didn't know who she was, right before she handed him his ass." She laughed again, envisioning the scene with the Mystallian goddess of War. "And by the realms, there's no way Uncle Chance could've seen that movie. He'd be driving us all nuts with the sheer number of one liners he could pull from it."

As Danny turned off the TV, Taylor rose from the lounge and waved Janesha to follow her. They went up the stairs and along the corridor. "You talk about your Uncle Chance a lot. He's really your god of Luck?" Taylor pushed her bedroom door open and sat on her bed.

Janesha followed her in. "Of course. He was lucky even before he became the god of Luck, and he is by far the coolest uncle ever." Grabbing the computer chair, Janesha spun it around so she could sit on it with her arms crossed over the back. "I mean, if you took every cool uncle there ever was and rolled the best bits of them into one person, that's my Uncle Chance. If you're down, he always knows exactly what to say to make you feel better. If you're up to some prank or another, he'll probably show up at just the right time to offer helpful advice on how to make it even more awesome."

"That does sound cool," Taylor agreed. She sat back on her hands, looking pensive. "Um, I've got a question."

Janesha glanced into her head and nodded to herself. _I wondered when this was going to come up._ "Go ahead."

"You said pantheons don't share realms," Taylor began slowly. "And you also said that Mystal's one of the bigger realms out there. How come we've heard of all these other gods, these other pantheons, but never Mystal until today?"

Janesha chuckled. The answer was incredibly easy. She spun around on the chair, making sure her cape flared outward instead of tangling with the chair wheels as it wanted to. "Remember how I said my cousin runs Earlafaol? She's totally unique, and unlike the rest of us, she doesn't have to worry about having her borders being breached. So, as a gesture of goodwill, she reached out to all the other pantheons and invited them to set up pockets of worshippers on the world where she and her family lived on."

"And they believed her?"

"My cousin is _the_ Weaver. They'll believe whatever she _wants_ them to."

"So, she can control the gods?"

"It's not a well-known thing outside of Mystal, but yeah, if she wants to, she can. It's one of the reasons why she lives far from them in the Unknown Realms."

Taylor frowned. "Hang on. This is the same cousin who allows mortals do whatever they want without interference, isn't she?"

Janesha nodded. "Yeah."

"And she doesn't do it to gods either, for the same reason?"

Janesha nodded again. "Now you're getting it. She's a real sweetheart and everyone loves her. Those who don't, instinctively stay away."

"Then why haven't I heard of Mystal?"

"Because … I think you have a term for it. Hovercraft parent?"

"Helicopter mom," Taylor corrected.

Janesha bobbed her head. "Right, well, imagine the most heavily-laden nuclear-armed helicopter gunship dad, capable of destroying whole galaxies if one single stupid little mortal so much as gives his little princess a dirty look."

A muscle under Taylor's eye twitched and she visibly winced. "That bad?"

"And worse. Uncle Avis is utterly psycho when it comes to her, and trust me, if she let either him or the rest of the pantheon in, Mystal would never leave your world and he'd have a wall of celestial bodyguards over fifty deep in every direction around her at all times. The world's religions would never recover from the overwhelming presence of Mystal."

"Why would he let her go, if he's that psycho about her safety?"

Janesha smirked. "If you ask her, they sat down for a long heart to heart and she talked him into agreeing with her point of view. The rest of us have another theory we're not stupid enough to voice."

"She weaved him?"

Janesha winked and grinned, but said no more.

Taylor blinked. "Ah." She glanced around the bedroom. "Well, uh, I need to get ready for bed soon. What are you going to be doing while I'm asleep?"

"Sleeping, duh. Celestials need their sleep as well." Janesha chuckled at the stunned look on Taylor's face. "Hey, some things are universal."

"If you say so." Taylor's tone indicated that she was fully aware some things were less universal than Janesha was trying to make out. "So where are you going to sleep? My bed's not exactly big enough for two people. Or are you going to set up down in the basement, next to Cloudstrike?"

Janesha considered that. "Actually, that's not a bad idea, but I've got a better one. Back in a moment." She hurried downstairs, resisting the urge to realm-step into the basement to save time.

"Forgot something?" Danny asked as she hustled through the kitchen.

"Nah, just remembered I need to make my bed," she replied.

"But …" He trailed off, apparently having decided that waiting to see what she was up to was better than asking questions. Which was all to the good, because she wasn't about to hang around at the top of the stairs, answering them.

Cloudstrike nickered happily to see her, and Janesha spent a few moments with her arms around the neck of the mystallion, enjoying the closeness. "We'll go flying again soon, girl," she assured her closest friend. While she was there, she replenished the hay—Cloudstrike had been busy there—and the water in the trough.

Then she grabbed the workbench and crunched its mass into that of pure tungsten, shrinking its size into a ball roughly the size of a soccer ball. She then tucked it under her arm and headed back up the stairs.

"Do I want to know what that's for?" asked Danny as she came through the kitchen again.

"I told you," she said patiently. "I need to make my bed."

"But …" he said again, and then something clicked in his head. "Oh. You need to _make_ your bed."

She rolled her eyes. Normally he was a lot sharper than that. "That's what I've been _telling_ you." Trotting upstairs, she strolled down the corridor and entered Taylor's room again. In her absence, Taylor had changed into her pyjamas.

Taylor eyed the dull-grey ball she was carrying. "What's that?"

Answering her in full would've taken far too much time, so Janesha decided to show her instead. Heading over to the bed, she pushed the tungsten ball into the baseboard and merged the two together. Then, with her hand firmly on the thicker baseboard, she grew the bed from a single, narrow bed into a double bunk setup with mattress proportions half the size again of the original.

"Ta-dah," Janesha announced with a flourish. "Bunk beds. Problem solved. Which would you prefer, top or bottom?"

"Uh … top?" ventured Taylor. "I've never slept in a bunk bed before." At Janesha's nod, she climbed the short ladder at the end of the bed, and settled down on to the mattress. "Oh … _wow,"_ she breathed, stretching out on the bed. "This has got to be the most comfortable mattress I've _ever_ slept on."

Janesha buffed her nails complacently, then inspected them. They were, of course, perfect. "Shape. Shifter," she reminded Taylor. "It doesn't matter where I am, I always make sure I sleep in celestial comfort." With barely a thought, she shifted her Mystallian garb into appropriate sleepwear, then stretched her arm across the room to close the door and turn out the light. Climbing into the lower bunk, she pulled the covers over herself. "Night, Taylor," she said into the darkness.

"Night, Janesha." Taylor's reply was already drowsy. Those mattresses were _very_ comfortable.

Janesha grinned to herself and rolled over. Tomorrow was another day, and it promised to be a lot of fun.

* * *

End of Part Five


	6. Chapter 6

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Six: Reaping the Whirlwind

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by [USER=310206]Fizzfaldt[/USER] and beta-read by Karen Buckeridge, author of_ Ties that Bind _.]_

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

Waking up in the lower bunk of a double bunk bed momentarily puzzled Janesha, until she took a split second to internalise and run through the last quarter-hour of her memory from the previous day. The process reminded her that she'd decided to attend whatever passed for 'school' on Earth Bet, so she could kick some righteous butt. Specifically, the collective wastes of oxygen, space and reality otherwise known as Emma Barnes, Sophia Hess and Madison Clements.

Two days ago, she wouldn't have cared in the slightest what one mortal did to another. Few celestials did. Mortals, after all, were as plentiful as grains of sand on a world-spanning desert, so concerning about any one of them was pretty pointless. But then she met Danny Hebert and his daughter Taylor. They had personalities. They were people. _Real_ people.

They didn't treat her like mortals usually treated celestials in their midst. Instead, they treated her … The internalised version of Janesha twisted her lips to one side. Exactly how did they treat her? What was it about this pair that made her care so much? The thought of mortals influencing celestials was just stupid. Mortals didn't live long enough to influence anything. But what else would she call it? Cousin Columbine always insisted every mortal mattered … but why?

She could always say it was the life debt. No one would refute her connection to Danny Hebert at least, but that was a cop-out and she knew it. If the debt was all that mattered to her, she'd make him the sovereign of a large portion of the world (if not the world itself), give him the required wealth to make it stick and go home. Again, she had a ready-made excuse for why she hadn't already done this. The realm was owned. Somewhere in here, there was at least one celestial present that could screw with her gift, and a gift that could be negated with a thought was no gift at all.

The internalisation of herself sighed. That was just as much bullshit as blaming the life debt itself. The truth of the matter was … Danny wouldn't want it. Not if it came from a celestial. She could sort of understand why he was so jaded against celestials. He loved his wife, and she died for no apparent reason. He wouldn't be the first mortal to suffer such a loss. Hell, celestials suffered those sorts of losses all the time too. While those with an establishment field were generally immortal and unkillable and their unestablished blood relatives weren't about to die of natural causes, other celestials lived and died in under sixty thousand years, in fact. Contrary to popular belief, mortals didn't have the monopoly on dying. They just did it a lot quicker. As a kind of consolation prize, only mortals could go on to an afterlife, whereas the light of a celestial just … went out.

Back to Danny though. He was pissed enough at her for enhancing his and Taylor's physical capabilities. Using the stupid rules of the realm, Janesha had given him a humanised control of his new physique. That is, he wouldn't break, crush or destroy things without effort. Too often, people thought super strength was a good thing, but not when you couldn't turn it on and off as required. A grip that could crush diamond would spend an eternity trying to grip a door handle and apply just the right amount of pressure to open it without squeezing it to powder. _And don't get me started on the complexities of typing at a regulated pace._ Between his speed and his strength, a certain red and blue dressed superhero from the comics would never have made it as a reporter in the real world.

But she had thought of that. For them. Because she … liked them?

Now that the thought was out there, she mulled it over. She _did_ like them. She liked them a lot. Danny could be a bit of an overbearing dick at times, but she hadn't exactly smacked him down for it, so who was truly to blame for that attitude? For a split second, she thought about stealing them from the realm. Just them. The two of them. The celestial in charge would hardly miss a pair of mere mortals … and she could …

She pulled that thought up with another sigh. She could do what? Turn them into her prized pets? Give them an extended lifetime in Mystal so they could live even longer in a place where their lives would be utterly meaningless to everyone but her? She liked them, because they had spirit. That spirit would quickly be crushed into nothing if she took them home. Even the celestial insects would turn their noses up at them.

Her third sigh was gutting. She'd have to leave them here. They belonged here.

Janesha speared her hair with her gloved fingers and knotted them behind her head. This was getting her nowhere. She needed space to think.

Unwinding her fingers, she turned away from the memories and made her way over to the imagination section of her mind. There, she recreated her sitting room back in Mystal, complete with her half-circle stretch lounge in front of a roaring fire. Then she brought into being a dozen different versions of herself.

For the next half an hour they argued back and forth about where she was at and what she should do about it. Frankly, the only thing they all agreed on was the fact that she owed Danny a life debt, which would be inhibited by the established pantheon here.

Growling in frustration, she cleared them all away. Then she leaned forward, pressing her forearms into her knees with her head bowed.

"Not a good pose for you, Sweet Pea," a familiar voice said cheerily from over the back of the couch. "Anyone'd think you were beaten."

Without lifting her head, Janesha closed her eyes and shook her head. "Who invited you, Uncle Chance?"

The back of the couch dipped as the youngest of the Mystallian Elder Court stepped over the couch and slid down the back until he sat beside her. "You know I don't need an invitation to stick my nose in where it's not wanted." His elbow collided with her ribs, with enough force to make her wince. "Come on, Sweet Pea. Give me a smile, or Operation _Harass-The-Shit-Out-Of-My-Sulky-Niece_ will commence in earnest." He nudged her again. "Don't say you weren't warned. Three…Two…"

No matter how hard she wanted to stay pissed, the corners of her lips curled against her wishes and she opened one eye to glare sideways at him. His boyish looks and cheeky expression belied his age, making him appear only a few years older than her. He had the same black hair as the rest of his siblings, though his eyes were molten gold, like Aunt Clarise's. "I hate you," she said, in a tone that showed it to be an outright lie.

Chance threw his hands up and barked out a laugh. "Hey, it must be my day to channel my inner Clarise, because I can tell you're absolutely full of shit, young lady."

Janesha chuckled. She couldn't help herself. "Fine, you asshole. You win."

Chance sobered. "Not yet, darlin'," he drawled, the molten gold in his eyes hardening just a little. "Something's eating you enough to subconsciously bring me into your dreamscape. Logically, that means you're at a moral impasse. One that you already know the answer to from a celestial standpoint, which is why you haven't brought out your mother or one of the other elders to ask their advice. You want someone who thinks outside the box. So maybe you need to tell me what that box is, and I'll see what I can do to help."

Janesha could have reset the situation and given Chance all the information he needed, but it felt good to talk it out. So, she started right at the beginning where Thor had thrown her out of Asgard in a hissy he-fit and went all the way through to when she went to bed the night before. Chance never once interrupted her.

"Wow," he said, sitting back on the couch once she was done. The fingers of his left hand played with his bottom lip—a tic he shared with his siblings when something bothered him. "You've certainly gotten yourself into a hell of a pickle, haven't you, Sweet Pea?"

"I'm doing okay for myself," she argued defensively. "I found a realm that nobody else even knew about."

"You have," Chance conceded. "And for a mortal world, it's pretty interesting that it coincides so closely with your cousin's. But that's both the point and the problem, isn't it? It's a mortal world. One that's already been claimed by another. Why do you care so much about what happens to them?"

Despite knowing this was only a simulation of her favourite uncle, everything about the situation was so close to the real thing that she suddenly felt a twinge of homesickness. To distract herself, she ran her fingers through her hair again. She hated being put on the spot, and nobody did it better than Chance. "Well … they're my _friends_ …" Her voice trailed off, knowing her excuse was weak but not knowing what to do about it.

Chance rolled his eyes and sighed, then leaned back on the sofa, spreading his arms out to the sides. Under his direction (because it sure as shit wasn't hers) the sofa shifted, splitting in half and reforming into two armchairs which came to rest facing each other. This made it harder for Janesha to look away from him, which was exactly what he wanted. Could she circumvent him and put it all back? Sure. She was after all, the only one in here. But subconsciously, she knew she needed this.

When he spoke, his voice was full of warmth and understanding. "This is why we don't let you kids go out without us, Sweet Pea. They're called mortals for a _reason."_ He gestured eloquently with his hands. "They won't live forever. Most of them barely make it to a century or three, and when they wither and die, it'll break your heart. You _know_ this. It's why you should never have let yourself get too attached to them, baby."

"I didn't _mean_ to!" Immediately, she regretted her outburst. "I didn't mean to," she repeated more quietly, focusing more on his chin then his eyes.

She saw him lean forward and knew what was coming even before his finger slid under her chin to lift her face. "Up here," he said, using two fingers to signify his eyes. When she complied, he removed the finger from under chin and sat back again. "So, what do you plan to do now, Sweet Pea?"

"I can't just walk away! There was a wild talot in the celestial realm here, and Danny saved my life when we came across into the mortal realm!" She stared into the recreation of her uncle's face, reiterating that point. "Even if I didn't like Taylor, I still owe him that debt."

Chance sighed and lifted his left foot, balancing it on his right knee. His fingers tapped out an odd rhythm on his shin. What he didn't do was try to directly refute her words, which was as good as admitting he didn't have a good comeback. This wasn't to say that the _real_ Chance wouldn't, but nothing she knew about him allowed for a viable response. When he spoke next, it was to change the subject. "You're going to have to wrap this up fast, Sweet Pea. No matter which way you look at it. If the real version of me isn't already hunting your ass down, I soon will be. Your great-grandmother isn't going to be fucking around on that score, either. As soon as she realises you've cut out into the Unknown Realms, she'll bring me in on it. And you won't escape my luck for long."

Now, it was Janesha's turn to sigh. "I know. But I'm not leaving until I figure this all out."

"Hold on to that delusion, darlin'," he drawled again, this time buffing his fingernails against his uniform doublet and inspecting their shine. Then he looked over the hand at her and added, "You've got till we find you. After that, we're all going home, and your ass is going to be grounded for an eon at least." A wry grin crossed his face as he finished with, "And don't expect to be sitting down during that time either. You've got one hell of an ass-kicking coming your way when we find you."

Janesha rubbed her thumbs and forefingers together. None of those threats thrilled her, especially when she knew they were all true. "Well," she said, with a tired wave. "If I'm gonna get killed by the family, I might as well make a real show of it."

That got Chance's attention. He dropped his foot to the carpeted floor and straightened, the gold in his eyes sharpening into jagged peaks: a clear warning to anyone who knew him that they were now on treacherous ground. "And how exactly do you propose to do that?" he asked, icily.

"Because I know Aunt Yasadan won't go asking her dad for answers of where I went, not with the bad blood that's currently between me and Thor. So, it's going to take a long time for Mom to rule out the Known Realms, even if she brings in Dad's family to help with the search. As of now, I'm going to ignore all the blood-links I receive, so none of you will be able to tag me that way. It'll be months before Mom reaches out to the elders for help, and months more before you all realise I came into the Unknown Realms. I'm going to have at least a year before you manually track me down."

Chance surged to his feet with outrage written all over his face, but Janesha froze him and the whole scene in place before he could act. Even if this was just a dreamscape, it was never fun to be around an angry elder. In all fairness, that _was_ kind of the reaction she was expecting from him. And if that was _his_ reaction, the others were going to be fifty times worse … at least. Uncle Avis and Uncle Tal would blow the top off the scale, if they got involved. She was playing a very dangerous game now.

But Janesha wasn't done with talking to her uncle, just yet. So, she reset the scene to where he was buffing his nails. "Maybe," she agreed, answering his swipe about a severe ass-kicking. "But this other celestial, or group of celestials is seriously screwing things up here. He, she or they have got to be here somewhere. And either they're so screwed in the head that they like it this way or they've been suckered into their own thrall and can't get out. Either way, I'm the only one who can fix this shit, right now."

Chance gave her a long, parental look and shook his head. "Janesha, you're intruding on someone else's realm, and you know better than to assume you have the right to change the way they've set things up. Even if you _weren't_ in the wrong here, you're opening yourself up for severe retribution once they realise you're in the realm."

"It's still fucked up, Uncle Chance," Janesha maintained stubbornly. "They're using celestial constructs to give some of these mortals lots of power, and they're setting the mortals against each other. They're even using other constructs to attack the mortals directly, making it play out like a kids' book, but with lots of casualties." She was pretty sure Chance had never read a comic book before, and this was the closest approximation she could come to.

Her uncle pressed his lips together and shook his head. "It doesn't matter, Sweet Pea. It really doesn't. You're still pissing in someone else's pool." He dropped his leg and braced his elbows into the arms of the chair, bouncing his fingers off each other in front of his face. "And there's one very important detail that I think you're overlooking here, baby."

Janesha, sure she'd covered everything, raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Like what?"

"You claim these mortals are growing on you. I can see at least some of them are. But if you go after the established pantheon and you challenge them for the right to rule, you _will_ get yourself killed. And what do you think will happen to this precious mortal world you've discovered when your great-grandmother and the rest of us find out about your death? Do you think whatever this peon of a pantheon has is any match whatsoever for the full might of Mystal and Rangi-Tuarea combined? I can't speak for your father's pantheon, but we wouldn't stop until this whole galaxy was one big smoking hole that not even _hard vacuum_ would survive in. You understand me?"

She understood him, alright. It was just that she hadn't actually thought of it in those terms before. _So, if I die, so does Danny, Taylor and everyone else on Earth Bet. Okay then. I guess I just have to make sure I don't die._ "I know," she said out loud. "I'll be careful. Love you!" Dispelling the simulation of her uncle, she leaned back in the armchair for a moment and stared up at her vaulted ceiling. _As if I didn't have enough to worry about. Joy._

The introspection thus far had lasted the better part of three hours. Once she figured she could face the world, Janesha pulled back out of her own head and sat up in bed. Above her, she heard the noise of Taylor stirring. Elsewhere in the house, she detected the sound of a shower running. Mortals of this world did showers slightly differently to the way Mystallians achieved it, but that was because they cared about things like water wastage. Still, Janesha quite enjoyed a hot shower once in a while. Stimulation waves were obviously quicker, but the purpose of a hot shower wasn't to actually be quick. It was to be luxuriated in (at least, in Janesha's opinion). Unfortunately, today wasn't a day for relaxation. She had a tight schedule to stick to.

"Morning, Taylor," she sang out, then gave herself a stimulation wave. As she got out of bed, she shifted her sleep-wear (pyjamas like Taylor's) back into her Mystallian leathers. "How are you feeling today?"

"Unngh," grunted Taylor, sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes. Her hair was all over the place, just begging for a good brushing or a stimulation wave of its own. "Wha … huh … oh. Hi, Janesha. Morning." She looked down at the bed, her brain still apparently catching up with events. "Bunk beds. Cool."

Instead of repeating her question, Janesha ran her mental fingers across Taylor's surface thoughts. Her friend seemed to be well-rested, without any ongoing agitation from bad dreams, which was good. No doubt those would happen again at some point, but she'd blunted the edge of the blade for that at least. She wondered idly if Aunt Clarise's dad had a specific torture lined up for people who betrayed their friends and shoved them into lockers full of filth, then snorted silently to herself. _Of_ _ **course**_ _he does. He's Belial. Personalising torture is what he_ _ **does.**_ _Or maybe that'll be Uriel's job from Heaven's side, being the archangel of Vengeance and all._ That was an interesting conundrum. Who'd have dibs on them? Maybe, when she finally got home again, she'd ask Aunt Clarise which way that would swing. Being both American and white, it was more likely than not that at least two of the three girls had their religious views geared towards Heaven. And since that was the case, maybe she should reach out to Yeshua after all. See if he had any pull with his old man, and if he did, put in a little request to have that pair sent directly to Hell as a personal favour to her … instead of being shown any mercy.

"Janesha?" Taylor looked doubtfully down at her. "You've got a nasty smile on your face. What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, uh, nothing important." Janesha schooled her features to a gentler expression. "Consequences of actions, mostly. Celestial stuff." She didn't quite know how Taylor felt about the idea of Emma and her friends being tortured for all eternity for the multitude of their sins against her, and she didn't want to turn Taylor against visiting Winslow. She might not be descended from highborn bloodlines like some of her cousins but her shapeshifting heritage still acknowledged her as a denizen of Hell, and there were three girls (at least) who richly deserved a lot of punishment: demon style.

"Okay." Taylor swung her legs over the side of the bunk and dropped to the floor. "So, are we still going to Winslow today?" She looked and sounded a little dubious at the notion.

"Sure we are," Janesha stated heartily. "Just remember, there's literally _nothing_ they can do to you physically that you can't tank, and nothing they can do to you at all that I can't reverse. And they won't be focusing on you, anyway. They'll be looking at _me."_ By way of explanation, she flourished the cape she was wearing.

Taylor put on her glasses and blinked. "Wait, you're going to be wearing that to Winslow? Won't that make you kind of … noticeable?"

"Well, _yes."_ Janesha tried not to sound too sarcastic. "That's the whole point. Everyone's going to be noticing me and leaving you alone." She caught the glint from Taylor's glasses lens and frowned. "You know, I could fix that for you. There's no reason for you to not be able to see perfectly. It'd take me two seconds."

"I, uh …" Taylor looked taken aback. "Won't people notice that I'm not wearing glasses anymore?"

Although Janesha held Taylor in high regard, offering a piss-weak excuse like that was just downright insulting. "That? That's _it?_ You're worried about people _noticing?"_ Reaching out, she tapped the nose bridge of her friend's glasses. "If you need the deception, I can remake these into plain glass. Or bulletproof. Or whatever else you want." With a deeper frown, she added, "Don't you guys have some kind of laser surgery to do away with glasses? I'm sure I remember something like that being on Earlafaol…"

"Sure, if you have the money. We don't technically have enough money for my medical bills, officially."

Janesha wrinkled her nose. "I hate pretending to be poor."

"I hate _being_ poor," Taylor quipped back.

"Touché. I can still make you fake glasses to keep your cover." She canted her head to one side and cocked an eyebrow. "Any other excuses we need to get past?"

"Well, when you put it _that_ way …" Taylor shrugged. She held out her hand to Janesha. "Do your thing."

"Well, my _thing_ is usually mind-bending, but sure. I'll need you to take your glasses off first so I can see what I'm doing. Or rather, so _you_ can see what I'm doing." Janesha waited for her to comply, then took hold of her outstretched hand. "Here we go." With no other warning, Janesha went into her friend's memories to see just how bad her vision was. The answer came in a fuzzy image that barely made out colours, let alone shapes. "Dang, girl…" she couldn't help but mutter. "Blind Ho _ð_ r had better sight than this." Well, no, he didn't, but it went awfully close. Most celestials didn't have to put up with crap eyesight. Even if they were born with bad eyesight, it was easily rectified. Unless, of course, they had an asshole step-uncle who made it his mission to screw with the whole pantheon for shits and giggles and hardly ever had to wear the consequences of those actions. Janesha ground her teeth in vexation. Fuck, she hated Loki. Like _A lot._ Hoðr had done nothing to him … and that mother-fucking gutless asshole went and ….

She shook her head to clear those thoughts. It didn't matter. It was done now. Hoðr had paid with his life for a crime he'd been tricked into committing, and much to the annoyance of anyone in possession of a hint of decency, that masterminding bastard went on his merry way.

Having got what she came for, Janesha returned to the physical realm and took a moment to compare her own eye shape to Taylor's, then did the preliminary reshaping. Her shifter power matched one to the other with ease; the only speed-bump lay in ensuring that Taylor's eye colour remained the same.

Going back into Taylor's mind, she went to see what her vision looked like now. Shapes weren't quite so blurred, and colours definitely had better clarity, so she was on the right path. For a moment, she compared what she was doing to a scientist correcting a microscope and chuckled. Taylor would throw something at her if she shared this particular thought. If she hated being compared to an ant, being compared to an inanimate microscope would probably put her over the edge.

Back and forward she bounced, zeroing in on any imperfections and then checking to see if there were any others. _If I was trained as a healer like_ _ **some**_ _people I could mention, I could've done this in one pass._ Just because that training took thousands of mortal lifetimes wasn't the point. Back and forth. Maybe it was because she was a perfectionist … or maybe because this was her friend and she wanted to make it especially perfect, but she refused to accept anything less. Back and forth. Back and forth.

In real time it had only taken a few seconds to do the dozens of corrections instead of the two she'd promised, but she didn't think Taylor would mind. Not now her vision was human perfect.

"Done," she announced. Grinning, she watched Taylor blink a couple of times.

Tentatively, Taylor put on her glasses, then took them off again. She held her hand in front of her face and examined her fingernails in awe. "Wow," she murmured. "Just like that."

"Well, not 'just' like that," Janesha said, her grin souring just a little. "You wouldn't believe how many times I had to keep checking to get it perfect. The tedium was actually beginning to annoy me by the end. If we were back home, or I was attuned to this realm, it would've happened just because I wanted it to."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "So, what you're saying is because you can't do it the effortless celestial way, you did it the not-quite-so-easy celestial way that's still light-years ahead of anything us mere mortals can come up with?"

At the sarcastic tone, Janesha twisted her lips to one side, but couldn't prevent the smirk that crept into the edges. She knew there was a reason she liked Taylor so much. " _Now_ you're getting it." She reached out and touched the glasses, flattening the lenses out. " _That_ was a whole lot easier."

Taylor was about to say something, when she paused and tilted her head towards the door. "Dad's finished in the shower. He'll be going down to make breakfast. You want to shower next?"

Janesha rolled her fingers back towards her pristine self. "Stimulation waves for the win, petal. Remember?" With the same hand, she gestured towards the door. "You go ahead. I think I might wander downstairs and give Danny a hand with breakfast." Whatever Danny and Taylor considered a worthwhile breakfast was more than likely not going to be what she had in mind. _Just because I'm living in a mortal household that deems itself 'poor' doesn't mean I have to eat like it._

"Sounds like a plan." Taylor's grin gave Janesha the distinct impression that Taylor was even more in tune with her thoughts than she'd figured. She opened the bedroom door and headed down the corridor, while Janesha followed more sedately. The bathroom door opened just as they arrived, and Danny stepped out, wearing a bathrobe.

"Morning, girls," he said blandly. "Taylor, you're up early." His eyes skimmed over Janesha's leathers without judgement.

"I slept real good," Taylor reported. "Better than I have for a long time." She tilted her head toward Janesha. "Between that fix job she did on my mind and the mattress she made for me, I had the best night's sleep, in like, _ever._ No nightmares, nothing."

Danny raised an eyebrow in Janesha's direction. "So, when you said you were going to make your bed, you didn't just make yours. You made one for Taylor as well."

"I'm not _that_ selfish." Janesha lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Besides, technically, I remade her bed to suit both of us, so fixing them up at the same time was a no-brainer."

"Just to put it out there, there was nothing wrong with the old bed I provided for her."

For a split second, Janesha felt sorry for Danny. He had been Taylor's provider her whole life, and now everything he'd given her wasn't good enough. "I can put it back if you want …"

"Don't you dare!" Taylor shouted. "Dad, you gotta let her change your mattress too. I swear, you'll never sleep on another mattress again, once you have. It's like sleeping on a cloud."

Danny smiled at Taylor, though it was more of a grimace than a smile. Janesha's eyebrow hitched at the by-play. Since when had she started taking notice of this shit? "Up to you, Danny. The offer's an open one, for as long as I'm here."

At least he seemed to appreciate the fact she was offering instead of just doing it. "Thanks, Janesha. I'll keep it in mind. But how did you fit two beds in Taylor's tiny room? Did you extend the house sideways or something? I didn't hear the house settling any more than usual last night."

Janesha snorted in amusement. "Now who's using a mountain when a molehill will do?"

To her surprise, both Danny and Taylor looked at each other, then burst out laughing. "Oh, man," Taylor continued to laugh, holding her father's shoulder for support. Danny had to take his glasses off to wipe his eyes. Janesha didn't think she'd said anything that funny. "You are sooo lucky Mom's not around to smack you upside the head on your total butchery of that saying."

Just as Janesha was about to look into their surface thoughts for the source of their humour, Danny decided to elaborate. "An example of 'Making a mountain out of a molehill' is when you trip over a rock, but then go on to tell everyone that rock was the size of the moon," he said, sliding his glasses back into place with a push of the nose bridge to secure them. "Only a celest would 'use' a mountain as a tool. I think the idiom you're looking for is 'Swatting flies with a sledgehammer'."

Janesha curled her lip into a sneer and flipped them both off, which had Taylor laughing helplessly and Danny shaking his head.

"She made us bunk beds, Dad," Taylor explained, once her laughter died down and she could breathe again. "Extra wide." She rolled her eyes in remembered bliss. "I mean it, Dad. You _have_ to let her change up your mattress. You have _never_ slept on anything like it." She touched the side of her head, right about where the arm of her glasses would've gone back to her ear. "Oh, and she fixed my eyes, too. I can see everything clear as day."

Danny blinked behind his own glasses, then shook his head again. "I keep wanting to say 'wonders will never cease' but then I remember you're a celestial and it's kind of in the job description. Around you, wonders will _definitely_ never cease." He nodded past the girls toward his room. "I've got to get dressed before I make breakfast, so if you'll excuse me?"

"Oh, sorry, Dad." Taylor ducked around to the side to let him get through. "I'm just gonna have a shower then I'll come down and have breakfast."

"And I'll go see to Cloudstrike," Janesha said. She didn't comment on Danny's assertion that he'd be the one to make breakfast. She and Taylor both knew what was really going to happen, so Danny had two choices: either eat the breakfast he prepared in protest or give in and eat the one she made. Now that he was someone who mattered, 'owning the space' demanded he be given the choice. She knew which one _she'd_ pick. "Ciao." With a single finger salute/wave, she realm-stepped into the celestial realm and rematerialized in front of Cloudstrike's stall.

Cloudstrike nickered happily to see her and butted her head up against Janesha's hand in her eagerness to get ear scratches. Janesha complied with a grin, murmuring to the mystallion as she ran her other hand over Cloudstrike's neck and through her mane. Picking up a random piece of trash from the basement floor, she transformed it into an apple for Cloudstrike as a reward for being a good girl and not wrecking the stall (or the house, for that matter). While the mystallion noisily crunched the treat, Janesha renewed the hay in the net, made sure the trough was still full of water (and wasn't overflowing), and sent a stimulation wave through Cloudstrike to clean her friend up.

The smell of frying eggs wafting down the stairs alerted her that Danny was starting on breakfast. Giving Cloudstrike one last ear-scratch and nose-to-nose nuzzle, she stepped away from the stall. "I've got to go and have breakfast now," she said, half-apologetically. At Cloudstrike's fretful nicker, she relented. "Don't worry. We'll take the long way to school, I promise."

She'd already figured out their flight-plan. Remembering the geographical layout of Brockton Bay from both Danny's memories and the Butt-Baster's, if traffic was bad, it would take anywhere up to forty minutes to catch the bus to Winslow High school. There was also the time it took to walk to the nearest bus stop, meaning she had at least three quarters of an hour. Janesha planned on using that time to give Cloudstrike a chance to really stretch her wings before dropping them of at the High School.

Cloudstrike jerked her head up and down emphatically and stamped her hoof in the soft earth. The stimulation wave had a dual effect, and now her friend was full of energy. Giving Janesha a sidelong look as if to say, _Remember, you promised,_ she turned aside to pull a mouthful of hay from the net.

Wondering if anyone else ever had to put up with this emotional blackmail crap, Janesha made her way upstairs. She could have realm-shifted into the kitchen and saved steps, but she'd learned that while people didn't mind you disappearing to leave, they got real toey when you appeared right behind them. That, and she didn't know exactly where in the kitchen Danny was, and appearing in the space he was already occupying would be … embarrassing.

As it was, Danny was standing beside the small stove in the corner, frying eggs in a pan. "How's Cloudstrike this morning?" he asked, once he noticed her approach.

"She's well, thanks," Janesha said, pleased that he'd asked. "She's getting a little antsy, though. I'm going to take her out for a proper ride soon, or she might start breaking things." She headed over to where he stood; an unopened packet of bacon on the bench beside him. "Bacon and eggs, huh?"

"Given that you seemed to think a quick jaunt down to Rio was only a light stroll for her, I'm guessing you'll be going much farther afield," Danny noted dryly. "And yeah. Bacon and eggs. Easy to make, hard to screw up."

A quick glance at his surface thoughts informed her that he was entirely sincere with his comment about Cloudstrike and in fact seemed much less concerned about it than he had been the day before. She wasn't quite sure if this attitude was just another side-effect of living in a world where 'capes' performed ludicrous (on a mortal scale) acts on a daily basis. Equally likely was the possibility that her own celestial essence was starting to creep through, making him accept her actions all the more readily. It might even have been a combination of the two; she had no real way of knowing.

"Would you like me to take over the breakfast?" she asked, giving him the option of either accepting her help, or being stuck with boring old bacon and eggs for breakfast. "I don't need to worry about fast and easy, since it's all the same to me." Raising her hand to shoulder height, she snapped her fingers, adding a sparkler effect to the air around her fingertips.

He suddenly looked thoughtful. "That meal you made for us last night was about the best thing I've ever tasted. Do you have a breakfast recipe that's as good?"

"I might be able to whip up something," she grinned.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

Showered and dressed, Taylor came downstairs. An irresistibly appetising smell met her nostrils halfway down the steps, and she quickened her pace. In the kitchen, her father and Janesha were chatting while different plates were being carried to the table. Several more plates were already there.

"What's all that?"

"Oh, hey," Janesha called, sliding the last of her plates onto the already over-crowded table. She then straightened and shrugged. "Since I'm not allowed to go into your minds, I didn't know what your breakfast preferences were, so I threw together a variety of things for you to try."

"Emphasis on 'threw together'," her father added glibly.

Janesha rolled her eyes at him and crossed them over her nose. "Yeah, as I was saying, don't fret about the mass. Just pick out what you like, and when you're full, I'll clear away the rest." Janesha waved her forward.

Taylor slid into her seat, staring at the mountain of food. "Where do I start?"

"Wherever you like. There's smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on toast. Omelette with truffles, mushrooms, avocado, sausage, spinach and bacon. Croissants with chocolate, whipped almond cream and strawberries. The other croissants have caramelised onion, cheese, brie, bacon and honey. There's also yoghurt with bananas, blueberries, walnuts and cinnamon and porridge with cashew milk and agave syrup, and coconut yoghurt with goji berries and popped quinoa. I made up some sugared toast with apricot compote, crème fraiche and mixed berries. For drinks, there's too many to choose from, so there's jugs of water, and after taking a glass or a mug, let me know what you want and I'll touch-shift it in."

"Like wine, maybe?" Danny asked, raising his eyebrow cockily. Taylor stifled a laugh, not sure if Janesha would get the Christian reference.

"Wine? Not my first choice," the celestial noted, apparently missing the entire point. "But sure, if that's what you're into. Personally, I find breakfast a little early to hit the heavier stuff, but a lot of the elders drink ambrosia at every meal."

"Ambrosia … isn't that that Greek god's wine?" Taylor couldn't say who asked it first, her or her father.

Janesha chuckled. "Funny you should mention Dionysus," she mused. "Since it's his son that's our god of the drink."

"I didn't know Dionysus had a son." Taylor decided to start with what was right in front of her, which just happened to be the savoury croissants. The combination of so many flavours had her tastebuds moaning in delight.

"Well, the _Olympians_ know about Yitzak, but the Greeks don't," confided Janesha, with an air of I-won't-tell-if-you-don't. "But yeah, Dionysus and my cousin Emmalyn of Festivities got busy during a social get-together, and a century or so later, we got ourselves a god of the Drink."

"Is he always falling-down drunk like his father?" Taylor's questions were said in and around her food. Yes, it was rude to talk with her mouth full, but she couldn't help it. She wanted answers almost as much as she wanted the next bite. Not even her father's frown of disapproval could dissuade her. Janesha took her seat and reached for the French toast and …whatever she'd said was with it.

"Exact opposite. The bastard never gets drunk, no matter how hard we try." Janesha waved her hand in a flourish. "Oh, he pretends to, to fit in. But the second he wants or needs to, he's a sober as they come. Worse, he can do the same to anyone else too. Rip an alcoholic blur right out of you." With an almost evil smile, she added, 'Or dump you in one if you piss him off. Imagine dealing with a celestial-scale hangover when you haven't touched a drop."

"I think I'll pass on that one, thanks," her father said with a shudder. "Normal hangovers are bad enough."

Being underaged, Taylor could only guess how unpleasant that would be. A thought then occurred to her. _What would happen to my bugs if I became drunk? Would they all act drunk too? And if they did, would that stop me from ever drinking again, knowing my actions impacted on others, much smaller and less significant to me?_ She could see through the eyes of a bug and make them do what she want. Swarm them if she chose to. Had she ever once stopped to think about what they wanted? She had been experimenting with her control of them ever since she'd left the hospital and her only thought at the time had been, _yes—I can_. Not only did she have control of all the insects in her vicinity, she also knew where they all were, how _many_ there were and (possibly most important) what types there were and what they could do.

To be honest, the answer to the last bit was usually some combination 'fly slowly', 'scuttle slowly' and 'bite weakly'. There were a _lot_ of bugs with abilities that frankly weren't very impressive. On the other hand, spiders spun webs and she'd seen on some science show that spider silk was one of the strongest things in the world. She had considered using their silk to braid unbreakable ropes. Cool, right? But had she even once thought about how the spiders felt about that?

Taylor looked over the food pile to Janesha, suddenly having a whole new level of respect for what her family must go through. It didn't sound like they were very nice about it, but she was certainly starting to see the similarities.

Still thinking about that, she finished up the croissant, absent-mindedly shooing away three flies that were making a bee-line (so to speak) toward the inviting smell and helped herself to a slice of omelette. Janesha gave her an approving nod and went back to eating her own breakfast. Close up, it smelled even more heavenly. Taking up her knife and fork, she carved off a slice and popped it in her mouth.

"Oh, my God," she mumbled as the taste exploded over her tongue. "Thiff iv _amazing."_ Chewing the mouthful, she swallowed and immediately snagged another piece. Across the table, her father was making similar inroads on his smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on toast. The whole meal had been prepared in the length of time it took her to have a shower. Ten minutes … maybe fifteen, tops. Taylor had heard people say that cape powers were such bullshit, but she suspected they had _nothing_ on celestial capabilities.

"You might say it's been in the works for eons," Janesha said with a laugh, pouring herself a glass of water, which she quickly changed into a fruit juice of some type. "The cooks back home live for thousands of years, perfecting their offerings. They get it right down to how many grains of salt are used with each serving. I got to taste the end result, and it was worth it." Her voice was casual, rather than boastful. Taylor got the impression that this really wasn't a big deal to her.

Breakfast was over all too soon. Danny went into the living room and turned on the TV, while Taylor stacked the used plates in the sink and turned on the tap to rinse them. By the time she turned back to the table, Janesha had made all the excess food disappear. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," she said, with a headshake.

"Get used to what?" Janesha asked, crossing the kitchen to lean against the sink beside her.

"Having a celestial in our household. Since you're not doing anything, you want to grab a tea towel and wipe the dishes as I hand them to you?"

Janesha canted her head again. "What for?"

"Because they need drying."

The strangest blend of confusion and disbelief drifted across Janesha's face. "You want me … to dry dishes … with a towel?"

"Uh huh." Taylor turned the tap off then picked up the brush. When Janesha made no move towards the tea towel, Taylor reached over and chucked it at her new friend, slapping her in the face with it. "Stop being a baby and help."

Reaching up, Janesha removed the towel and held it out at arm's length like a dead rat, then dropped it on the counter. "If anyone back home finds out I'm doing this …" she growled, but nevertheless took the first plate Taylor offered her. In the length of time it took Janesha to put the plate on the counter, the water evaporated away from it in a visible burst of steam, leaving it completely dry.

"Well, that works, too," Taylor said with a smirk. She scrubbed at the second plate then handed it to Janesha to be instantly dried and stacked. "So, you mean to tell me you've never ever washed up before? Even once?" She briefly recalled happier days, when she and Emma had shared the chore, inevitably splashing each other so that they needed more drying than the dishes did.

Janesha snorted in derision. "You do know what the word 'god' means, don't you? At mealtimes, we sit down, we eat, we socialise, and we leave. The rest is left to servants."

"It sounds nice," Taylor observed, scrubbing industriously at the third plate. "So, you didn't have _any_ responsibilities?" Celestials, she was beginning to suspect, had it better than any medieval king.

"Oh, I have _responsibilities,"_ Janesha said defensively. "I had lessons to attend, Cloudstrike to take … well, I had to learn how to take care of Cloudstrike, for the times when we weren't at the pantheon's stables. Otherwise, there were stablehands for that. Defend the name of Mystal in the eyes of other pantheons …"

" … get kicked out of Asgard for talking back to Thor …" Taylor chimed in, grinning.

Janesha poked her tongue out at Taylor as she took the last plate. "He was in the wrong. You don't steal another warrior's glory. Especially not a Mystallian's, and _double_ especially in front of another Mystallian."

Taylor happened to agree wholeheartedly, though in a slightly different context than warriors and glory, so she shifted to another topic as she started cleaning the cutlery. "So … lessons? About what?"

"Oh, _everything."_ Janesha rolled her eyes. "All about the realms, and who's in power in each one. The creatures in each realm that we need to be careful around. The languages of the different realms—well, I'm still working on those. How to comport myself as a goddess once I finally get my establishment. How _not_ to get myself accidentally established." She waved her free hand as she took the handful of forks and dried them. "How what you guys call 'physics' and 'biology' works in each of the realms. Stuff like that."

"But you said as far as you're concerned, physics is what you make it." That sounded fundamentally wrong to Taylor. Everything she knew told her that physics was physics.

Janesha shrugged but didn't deny it. "Only the mortal realm is that malleable. The celestial realm is a lot more … resilient."

"That's screwed up." Taylor grimaced.

"It is what it is." With a shrug, Janesha dropped the last of the cutlery on the drying rack and dusted her hands. "So, is that it? Do you need to bring anything like books or stuff?"

The memory of what had become of her school books caused her to pinch her lips together tightly. "No," she grumbled. "They were all in the locker with me. Even my backpack."

"Mother-fuckers," Janesha swore, scowling so thunderously Taylor thought she might have seen flickers of lightning in her irises. But then her friend closed her eyes, drew a deep breath in and held it. When she finally released it a few seconds later, she opened her eyes and smiled the way Taylor was certain a striking cobra would smile, if it were able. "Well," she purred, her tone laced with venom. "Let's see about fixing that, shall we?"

"Um … how exactly are we going to do that?" If anyone else had said those words, Taylor would've automatically prepared herself for disappointment. It was the way her world worked. But Janesha had a talent for making the impossible a reality, so she didn't instantly write the possibility off.

"We go there, and make them give us replacements," Janesha said flatly. "Not only did you get hurt, but your stuff got destroyed on their watch, so it's up to them to fix that shit." The further into the explanation she went, the angrier she became. "Either they learn to own their space, or I'll _make_ them fucking own it. No bunch of fucked-up fucking mortal bureaucrats is gonna screw _my_ friend over like that. Fuck that shit!"

The sound of Danny clearing his throat drew Taylor's attention to the door into the living room. Leaning on the door-frame, Danny eyed them both, while the TV played behind them. "Did I hear the sound of a Mystallian about to go and do something extremely Mystallian to someone who hurt my daughter?"

Taylor was impressed by the fact that her father had used the word 'Mystallian' as both a noun and an adjective in the same sentence. From the look on her face, Janesha had never heard it done like that before either. Stiffening her back, the young celestial looked Taylor's father in the eye. "And what if you did?"

Despite the certain knowledge that Janesha could destroy his mind at a whim, or disassemble him at a touch, Danny seemed unfazed. "Something tells me I should urge you not to go overboard. But even if I did, you'd probably ignore me, and I don't feel like being particularly merciful to those people anyway. So have at it, young lady. Just try not to do anything that would get me called in to a parent-teacher conference. I'm reasonably certain they'd be offended if I laughed in their faces."

Janesha's anger melted away and she smirked at Danny. "I _knew_ there was a reason I liked you."

Taylor's father chuckled and returned to the lounge. Seconds later, she heard him heading up the stairs, probably to get ready for work.

Janesha waved at Taylor. "Come on, let's get going."

"Sure, okay." Taylor headed for the back door, then realised that Janesha was going toward the basement door. "Uh, are we saying goodbye to Cloudstrike first?" She knew she'd agreed to accompany Janesha to school, but any excuse to delay was a good one, and visiting Cloudstrike was a better one than most. The mystallion's golden coat was so soft and warm, and she truly seemed to like Taylor. This was possibly because Taylor thought she was absolutely gorgeous—which was true—but there were worse reasons.

"Oh, no." Janesha shot Taylor a grin over her shoulder. "We're riding Cloudstrike to school."

"Wait, what?" Taylor's mind locked up and skidded to a halt. Her feet quickly followed suit. "We can't … can we?" Mental images arose of her dismounting from Cloudstrike in front of Winslow. Of everyone _watching_ her do so. She didn't even have the faintest idea what the fallout from that would be. At the very least, the PHO boards would go nuclear. She hadn't gone online yesterday, so she had no idea how bad it was already. On the one hand, they didn't have news crews setting up camp on their front yard, but she strongly suspected the tinfoil-hat brigade would be out in force. Going to Winslow on Cloudstrike with Janesha would simply throw gasoline on that fire.

"Sure we can." Janesha shrugged carelessly. "But since we're going to take a little detour first, I'm going to modify her saddle to make the ride more comfortable for you. Stirrups, too, so you don't accidentally kick Cloudstrike and confuse her."

"Detour to where?"

"Cloudstrike needs to properly stretch her wings, so the length of time it normally takes you to go to school, I'm going to let Cloudstrike have her head." Janesha must've seen the horrified look on Taylor's face, because she immediately said, "Oh, don't worry. Cloudstrike has an excellent sense of direction. She'll get us back here right on time."

"But you said her full speed is twelve galaxies a second!"

"So?"

"So there's no air out there! It's just vacuum! I'll _die!_ " Taylor thought that was kind of obvious. It was the first thing _humans_ thought about when going into space, after all.

Janesha paused and looked her over as if that thought had never occurred to her. "Hmmm, point. But I really do need to let Cloudstrike stretch her wings, before she does something else to get my attention." The longer she looked at Taylor, the more she rubbed her bottom lip. "What if … very temporarily, mind you … I give you the ability to sustain yourself in hard vacuum for the duration of the ride? And then change you back once we get back to Earth Bet. I give you my absolute word I won't leave you like that … unless you like it, in which case," she grinned mischievously, "… what Danny doesn't know won't get you yelled at, and me yelled at a whole lot more."

Taylor grinned as well. Being able to survive hard vacuum sounded pretty cool, but she still had a concern. "Am I allowed to bargain?"

Janesha threw an arm over Taylor's shoulders and led her to the basement stairs. "Try me."

"If we're moving that fast, I'm not going to see a thing. If I'm going to ride for that long, I want to see where we're going."

Janesha barely hesitated. "Oh, that's easy. There's a few ways we can do this. One, I give you permanent eidetic memory. Anything you see, you can go back to and replay at whatever speed you want. Two, I give you stop-motion visual capture, so if anything really fast happens in your vicinity, your eyes automatically record it for later review. And three, I give you the ability to overclock your visual cortex so you can watch anything in slow motion at any time. But it'll have weird effects on the way you experience other sensory inputs, so I wouldn't recommend using it for too long at one time." Janesha shrugged. "I'm good, but mortal brains have their limitations."

"Huh, wow." Taylor considered her options. Being able to remember everything she saw and heard would be so useful, from passing tests to memorising the back streets of Brockton Bay if she ever decided to go out as a hero. The instant slow-motion vision also sounded pretty cool. In fact, each of the three had their appeal. But she didn't take long to make her choice. "The visual capture, please."

"One hard-vacuum adaptation and visual-capture brain mod, coming up." Janesha never slowed down in the slightest. Instead, she opened the door with her free hand and guided Taylor down the stairs.

"How long's this going to take?" Taylor asked. She hoped it wouldn't be too long; they still had to get to school, after all.

"Already done." Janesha squeezed her shoulder, reminding her of the contact they already shared. "When you're in an airless environment, your external orifices will pinch shut and your body will start breaking carbon dioxide back down into oxygen and carbon." Her hand blurred in front of Taylor's face. "Did you see that?"

"Yeah, I did." Taylor somehow knew there was a memory waiting for her to access it. She did, and the image of Janesha's hand forming several obscene gestures in a row floated across her vision. "Okay, that's rude and you should feel bad. What about my eyes? Won't the eyeballs burst or something?" She remembered seeing some science fiction movie where that had happened.

Janesha rolled her own eyes. "Oh, petal. Have you already forgotten? Your eyeballs are _bulletproof._ A little hard vacuum isn't even gonna make them twitch, let alone go pop." She rubbed her hands together. "So, you ready to go to school and kick ass?"

It suddenly occurred to Taylor that while privacy was probably going to be an issue at some point during Janesha's stay—almost certainly sooner rather than later—the risk factor was far lower than it normally would've been. This was because she and her father had little to worry about physical harm anymore and in fact, thanks to the efforts of Emma and her coterie, she had literally no friends in the world who could be used to put pressure on her. Apart from Janesha, of course, and Taylor could only imagine how badly it would end for the person stupid enough to threaten the celestial. Regardless of _whoever_ did the threatening.

They descended the basement stairs, to be greeted by excited nickering from Cloudstrike. The mystallion barely waited until Janesha had let herself into the stall before bumping her head firmly against the teenager's shoulder. Her wings flexed open, brushing the side-walls, before furling once more.

"Yes, I know you heard us," Janesha said fondly, running her hand through the mystallion's mane. "And yes, we're going for a ride, but first I've got to work on the saddle. Come on through, Taylor. Cloudstrike won't step on your feet. Will you, girl?"

Cloudstrike tossed her head at that, managing to look offended. Turning her head toward Taylor, the mystallion nuzzled at her for attention. Taylor took her cue and ran her hand over Cloudstrike's cheek and along the mystallion's neck. "How long have you had her?" she asked. "And how did you even _get_ her? I mean, wow. She's amazing."

Janesha reached out to the side of the stall and pulled one of the granite blocks away, smoothing out the hole she'd made with casual ease. The block became a leather saddle which she placed over Cloudstrike's rump and attached to the back of the main saddle. "When someone in our pantheon hits puberty, one of the mystallions in the herd falls pregnant. Once the foal is born, they're matched with their rider. By the time that person's old enough to learn how to ride by themselves, the mystallion is old enough to be ridden. I've had Cloudstrike since I was twelve, and we've been flying together since I was thirteen."

"Lots of stuff happens when you hit puberty, doesn't it?" Taylor asked. She supposed that getting a mystallion would go a long way to make up for acne and teenage awkwardness. Then she wondered if celestials even _got_ acne. Somehow, she suspected, they didn't.

Janesha shrugged. "It's a marker, I suppose. The Known Realms' way of accepting I'm not a kid anymore …" Nudging Cloudstrike's wing aside, she swung astride with the ease of long practice. "Okay, do you think you can get up, or do you need help?"

Taylor looked at the saddle, then at the stirrups. She was tall for her age, but they looked way too high for her to use them to get on the mystallion's back. "Uh, some help, please?"

"Not a problem." Reaching down, Janesha took hold of Taylor's wrist and lifted her up to the point where she could slide her leg over the saddle.

It took Taylor a moment or two to get settled. Looking at how Janesha had her feet in the stirrups, she emulated that with hers. It felt weird, but the posture was far more stable than when she'd just been sitting on Cloudstrike's rump, the day before. "Wow," she said. "I don't know how you get used to this. I hope Cloudstrike's not uncomfortable with me on her back as well."

This got her an explosive snort from Cloudstrike and a laugh from Janesha. "Trust me, if she didn't want you there, you'd be sitting on your ass on the ground. At the very least. Comfortable?"

Taylor's hands, resting on the front of her saddle, found a couple of handholds which she immediately latched on to. "Uh, I am now."

"Good. Then there's one other thing I need to do." Before Taylor had a chance to ask what Janesha meant, she felt the leather of the saddle slide over her thighs, locking her in place. "It's a long walk home if you get thrown off," Janesha said.

 _Oh, right._ Remembering Cloudstrike's speed, Taylor's hands gripped the handholds until her knuckles went white from exertion.

"Okay then, let's go." Janesha glanced over her shoulder and gave Taylor a grin. Taylor didn't see what signal she gave to Cloudstrike, but the mystallion made a jump forward—

—and they were airborne, over the weird crystalline landscape. Cloudstrike's wings snapped outward, the downbeat catching them before they could begin to fall. One more beat, and they were flying through space. Yes, her brain confirmed as she clenched her eyes shut and redoubled her grip on the handholds. She was actually in outer space.

For the first few minutes, Taylor stayed like that. But as time went on and she didn't feel any need to breathe or any other ill effect of being in vacuum, it actually got a little boring. Which, she would be the first to admit, was _not_ something she would've expected from space travel.

When Janesha actually started laughing, Taylor relaxed enough to peek over the celestial's shoulder to see what was going on. It all seemed a blur of horizontal lines of light to her, but several stored memories popped up almost immediately, so she sat back to review them. As insane as it sounded inside her own head, she was getting images of actual planets—and sometimes whole stars—literally _leaping aside_ as Cloudstrike swooped at them, urged on by Janesha. Looking over her shoulder, Taylor collected more imagery of the heavenly bodies—so to speak—jumping _back_ into place as the mystallion streaked onward. And Janesha was _laughing_ about it.

At that moment, Taylor decided that the old movie title was indeed correct. The gods were indeed crazy. After all, who played chicken with a _sun?_ On _purpose?_

Eventually, Cloudstrike's pace slowed enough that Taylor began to recognise the planets of her own solar system, without needing the visual capture, as they cruised past them. She shook her head in wonder and tried to murmur to herself but her throat was sealed tight, so she had to be content with thinking it. _No one is ever going to believe this_.

She didn't think Janesha would hear her thoughts, but the girl grinned over her shoulder and winked at her. "Tolja it was awesome." She looked downwards at the saddle and said, "Since we're back in your solar system, I'm going to take the trainer bands off your legs. Remember, if you fall, it's still a bloody long way to walk, and I'll laugh my ass off at you every step of the way."

Taylor both felt and saw the leather straps melt away from her thighs. _Is that what they were?_ Carefully, she mouthed the words so Janesha knew to look into her thoughts.

"Well, yeah. Even celests have to start with the basics when they're learning. I spent the first five years tied into the saddle before mom let me sit there by myself."

Taylor tried not to smirk. She'd caught up with the celestial in just half an hour. Janesha never looked back, but suddenly Taylor's stirrup poked her in the foot. _Ow, hey!_

"I lost the training straps when I was five, you wise-ass," Janesha grizzled as she shot Taylor a dirty look over her shoulder.

 _I didn't say anything!_

"You didn't have to. Smug is an ugly colour on anyone."

 _Sheesh – you must really hate your own reflect…OW!_ That one had a point. _Cut it out!_

Taylor wasn't sure who laughed louder – Janesha or Cloudstrike. Or how she was hearing them, with vacuum surrounding them all. It was a celestial thing, she figured. _You both suck._

Still looking at her, Janesha and waggled her eyebrows. "You could always get off and walk."

Taylor crossed her eyes and poked out her tongue. _What happened to me being ultimately invulnerable and all of that?_

"You're as tough as the toughest mortal in this realm. Key word here? _'Mortal'_. Don't take on anything celestial and expect to win." With her usual mercurial change of mood, Janesha pointed downward. "Check it out. This is the place you guys keep sending all that space junk to."

And it was indeed Mars. With Cloudstrike slowing right down, Taylor got a good look at it on the way through. After picking out many of the ravines and contours, she was almost disappointed that little green men didn't pop up to see them. Never … never ever _ever_ did she think in a million years this would ever happen to someone like her. Or any other human actually. Although she wasn't hugely up on cape activities, she was pretty sure she was the first human to get that close to the planets of the solar system.

The moon indicated another slowdown, and before Taylor realised it, Cloudstrike was already descending toward the upper levels of the atmosphere, where fluffy white clouds hugged the surface far below. A moment later, they whipped past something grey-white in colour, and Taylor found another stored memory waiting for her.

"What in the realms—" began Janesha, but Taylor was already reviewing the imagery. A slender humanoid figure, adorned with wings stretching in all directions, thrown into shocked confusion as they blasted straight past it into the upper atmosphere. She didn't need to see it twice. Tapping Janesha's shoulder, she couldn't wait for her friend to see _these_ surface thoughts. _We just buzzed the Simurgh._

"What?" Having picked up what Taylor wanted her to hear, Janesha looked past her to stare back along their path. In this she was probably too late, given that Cloudstrike was already flaring her wings, the tips of which were glowing faintly, as they re-entered the atmosphere. As it was, they were already around the curve of the Earth; in another moment, they broke through the cloud layer and were streaking west (Taylor thought) over the Atlantic (Taylor hoped). _"That_ was the pretender bitch who's been giving my friend a bad name? I should go back there and pluck her like a fucking chicken! Then I'll—!"

"Hey, she's not due to attack for a month or so," Taylor said hastily. "Weren't we going to deal with Winslow first?" She'd been mentally preparing herself for this conflict since Janesha broached the idea, but she _wasn't_ ready to take on an Endbringer. Like, _ever._

She realised a moment later that she was talking again. _We must have enough air for me to breathe._

"Yeah, okay, you're right." Janesha made a rude signal back over her shoulder. "You'll keep, bitch." Then she faced forward. "Cloudstrike, hup!" she said, and once again the landscape shifted from what Taylor was used to, to that weird crystal terrain. A heartbeat later, they were right over Winslow High.

"I am _never_ going to get used to that stepping thing," Taylor declared, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the rushing wind. "Or that celestial realm place. What are all those big crystals? Do they have anything to do with that rope-thing you showed me?"

"I think they have everything to do with them," Janesha said, banking them to the right so they could land.

"How so?" Taylor really, _really_ wanted to know. A moment later, she made the conceptual leap. "Do you think that rope was connecting me to a crystal?"

"I'm certain it was," Janesha called back. She hesitated for a moment, then added, "I think the crystals are what give your 'capes' their powers. When I brought Squealer through, she had the same thing. But we're better off tabling this for later. Remind me when we get home."

As she spoke, Cloudstrike landed at the bottom of the front stairs of the school itself. Nerves ate at Taylor's confidence, until she felt the familiar buzz of a stimulation wave sweeping through her body. Then she knew she looked as good as she felt, and she squared her shoulders confidently.

Getting off Cloudstrike was a lot easier than getting on had been. Taylor simply kicked both feet out of the stirrups and swung her leg back over Cloudstrike's rump while holding on to the handholds. Then she slid straight to the ground, letting her knees flex slightly with the landing.

She took a couple of steps away from Cloudstrike to let Janesha dismount, and to get over the weird sensation of suddenly feeling a lot shorter than normal. As she stamped one foot and then the other on the concrete to reassure herself that yes, she was standing on the ground and not thigh-deep in it, she looked up and realised for the first time that there was the usual crowd of students heading into Winslow. Or rather, they had been, right up until Cloudstrike's dramatic entrance. Now they were all staring at her. Well, _some_ were staring at her, but most were staring _past_ her, at Janesha and Cloudstrike.

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

Running her hand over Cloudstrike's neck, Janesha made the reins attach themselves to the saddle so they wouldn't dangle and get in the way. "Good girl," she murmured. "Did you enjoy your ride?"

Cloudstrike jerked her head up and down and stamped her hoof once. The concrete cracked, but only a little. Besides, there were plenty of other cracks there already, so Janesha didn't care. With great precision, now that they had an audience, Cloudstrike shook her wings out and folded them alongside her body.

"Excellent." Janesha scratched behind Cloudstrike's ears. "Go on, back to the stall. I'll see you when I get home." She hugged her mystallion around the neck, then stepped back to let her take off.

Which Cloudstrike did, in her usual show-off way. Rearing up, the magnificent creature let out a ringing whinny that would've drawn every eye even if she wasn't already the centre of attention. Unfurling her wings and bringing them down with a thunderous clap, she took to the air, then vanished as she stepped across to the celestial realm.

Janesha turned to look at the assembled crowd. She was pretty sure she could hear the sounds of jaws hitting the concrete in all directions. "What?" asked Janesha as she stepped up alongside Taylor. "You're acting like you've never seen anyone show up for school before."

With Taylor at her side, making sure the taller girl didn't fall behind, Janesha strode forward into the crowd. Not altogether surprisingly, they made way for her, though there were a couple of guys off to the side with close-cropped heads who glared at her in what they probably thought was a covert manner. She'd made no promises not to read anyone else's minds, so in she went.

As she'd surmised, these were members of the Empire Eighty-Eight, a grandiloquent name for a ragtag bunch of idiotic mortals who were even more delusional about their place in the grand scheme of things than the norm. They were led and reinforced by a significant bunch of capes, which Janesha might've been more concerned about if she considered capes to be a danger to her. The two she was looking at weren't capes, and they didn't know about any Empire capes in Winslow, which reduced them to the status of pond scum in her eyes. Both in terms of their importance to her, and what she'd turn them into if they tried any of their skin-colour hatred shit on her, or tried _anything_ on Taylor.

Tucking away the information regarding the names and faces of every Empire idiot in Winslow, Janesha went on without breaking stride. She knew full-well that many phones were out by now, capturing pictures of her and Taylor. A few lucky ones would even have gotten pictures of Cloudstrike. That didn't matter to her; it wasn't as if there were any celestials on Earth Bet who knew her, or (more importantly) were related to her. And as exactly two mortals had the full story on her divine background, nobody was likely to decide she was a celestial and start worshipping her.

They climbed the steps to the front doors of Winslow, people still making way for them. Beside her, Taylor kept pace, though her breathing was a little rapid. Janesha brushed hands with her and dived into her surface thoughts. As she'd expected, Taylor was scared. Without the mental tweaking Janesha had done on Taylor the previous night, her friend's fear would be rapidly escalating to a full-blown panic attack. Now, she was managing her fear. It was still stressing her out a little, so Janesha decided to give her some assistance. Another brush-touch gave Janesha full access to Taylor's body via her shifting. Janesha wasn't a Weaver, so she couldn't command emotions directly, but she _could_ dial back the symptoms of fear to give Taylor a chance to collect herself. She did this, and saw from sidelong glances at Taylor that the mortal girl's posture wasn't as rigid as it had been before.

Down the halls of Winslow they strode, Janesha subtly matching her steps to Taylor's so that they walked in lockstep. It was the Mystallian way to back each other up to the hilt, and marching in step was one of the minor ways they showed it. The people in the building hadn't seen the arrival, so they weren't looking at Janesha and Taylor with quite the same level of surprise and awe as the ones outside had. Still, her uniform was fortuitously close enough to a cape's costume that the students in the hallways made way for the pair.

Taylor became more nervous the closer they got to Blackwell's office, but Janesha also noted a growing undercurrent of dark glee. On the one level, Janesha's mortal friend was apprehensive about the upcoming confrontation, but on the other, she desperately wanted to see Janesha make mincemeat out of the woman who'd stood by for so long and let all this _shit_ happen to her. Which Janesha was quite happy to do, literally if necessary. _Nobody fucks with my friends._

Either word had gone ahead or Blackwell normally kept her door locked, because when they got there, the handle wouldn't turn. Janesha turned it anyway, the door opened, and they entered. Pushing the door shut behind them, she sealed it to the door-frame. There would be no escape that way.

The front office was deserted, which led credence to the idea that Blackwell had gotten wind of their coming. There was, however, the sound of a voice from the main office. Taylor tested that door handle, then tensed and twisted the handle a lot harder. With a loud _crack_ , the lock broke and Taylor pushed the door open. Inside, a woman whom Janesha recognised as Principal Blackwell looked up, fear flashing across her face. She held a phone to her ear, and in the silence that followed the entry, Janesha clearly heard someone asking if something was wrong.

"Hi," Janesha said. As she passed by the door, she rested her hand on it and repaired the damage Taylor had done. "The door was open, so we let ourselves in." Moving forward, she rested the knuckles of both hands on the desk and leaned over it. "We need a moment of your time. And by 'moment', I mean 'the next half-hour'. So I would advise you to _**hang the phone up right now**_ and give me your full attention."

Obedient to the mental command thus given, Blackwell hit the 'end call' button and placed the phone on the desk. "Who are you, and what do you want?" she asked Janesha, her tone freezing.

Although inclined to put the impertinent mortal through the wall behind her for the attitude thus shown, Janesha controlled herself. If Taylor could handle the situation without punching a hole through this self-important _bitch_ , so could she.

"I am Janesha of Mystal." Every word she uttered rang with the confidence it deserved. "I'm here to make sure that Taylor Hebert has all the property that was destroyed in her locker replaced. Better get a pen out." Glancing sideways at Taylor, she added, "Taylor, start listing."

"Oh, uh—" Taylor began, but was cut off by Blackwell.

"Miss Hebert has been already compensated," the principal said flatly, with barely a glance at Taylor. "Her father was given a check to cover—"

"That check barely covered her hospital bills and you _know_ it," Janesha cut her off in turn. She took a moment to dive into Blackwell's head. Ignoring most of the minutiae of how to run a school—by the Twin Notes, how they liked to over-complicate things—she zeroed in on Taylor Hebert and why nobody was interested in doing anything about the situation.

 _Well, that's interesting._ It seemed that the combination of Emma Barnes' father being a lawyer and Sophia Hess (aka Shadow Stalker) being a junior hero set up Emma and Sophia as being basically untouchable, at least for the 'minor' crime of picking on an unpopular girl. It didn't help that Shadow Stalker's PRT minder was advising Blackwell to soft-pedal the Ward's punishments, so that she was always available for her crime-fighting duties (and to remain in the school, for which Winslow was being compensated). Perhaps the worst bit was that Blackwell didn't even dislike Taylor. She was just supremely unconcerned with her well-being, and was perfectly okay with throwing the girl to the wolves just to keep things running smoothly.

"That's as may be," Blackwell responded tartly. "Legally speaking—"

"Legally speaking," Janesha interrupted again, "the school board might be interested in knowing how you've over-reported damages for gang fighting for seven years in a row, claimed compensation to fix it, and pocketed the difference. Or the PRT might be interested in knowing how your pet Ward is engaged in a full-blown bullying campaign against Taylor here, while you just stand by and let it happen."

As she spoke, the colour drained from Blackwell's face until it was a paler shade than her dyed blonde hair. "How—" she began, then started again. "That's not true. You have no proof of any of that." But the expression on her face and the hunted look in her eyes proved the lie.

"Try me." Janesha showed her teeth in what was definitely not a smile. " _Or,_ you can simply give Taylor back the property you rightfully owe to her. Your choice."

"Textbooks," Taylor said firmly. "Backpack. Pens. Pencils. Pencil case. Exercise books. Notepads. Calculator. Stapler." She eyed Blackwell challengingly.

"It'll take time to get all that together," Blackwell tried, a desperate look in her eye. "Next week—"

" _ **Today. Before first period**_." Realising her temper was loosening its leash, Janesha held up a finger to calm herself down, then went on with: "By my estimation, you've got twenty-five minutes. Get to it."

Blackwell stood up almost involuntarily. "Uh, the textbooks need to be paid for—"

Son of a _bitch,_ the greed ran deep in this woman's soul. Janesha was out of patience. "No, they don't. _ **Fetch what Taylor listed, from your personal supplies. Now**_." She took it up to a celestial command, leaving Blackwell no choice in the matter at all.

"All right, all right." Blackwell darted away from the desk toward a large cupboard that stood against the far wall. As she struggled to find the right key to open it, the phone on her desk rang. Janesha leaned over and eyed the display, but all it showed was that the number was blocked.

She'd seen smart-phones before, so she reached down and swiped it to answer, putting it on speaker. A shift in her throat allowed her to emulate Principal Blackwell's voice. "Hello?"

Taylor's stare at her was only mildly incredulous. Janesha winked at her, then turned her attention back to the phone call.

" _Hello, Principal Blackwell."_ The voice was familiar. _"This is Armsmaster. I'm responding to your call regarding an unknown cape entering your school, and how you cut the call off. I'm inbound now. Can you talk freely?"_

Janesha smirked and changed her larynx back to normal. "Hey, Armsmaster, it's me," she said in a casual way. But then, realising he wouldn't necessarily recognise her voice, she added, "Janesha of Mystal. Everything's fine here. I'm just talking some things over with Principal Blackwell. Nothing to be worried about."

" _Ah, of course."_ Armsmaster's tone was much more relaxed now. _"It's good to hear from you again, Miss Janesha. Is everything all right at the school?"_

"Everything's fine as far as I can see," Janesha said with a shrug. "We're just talking about a matter to do with a student's lost property. Nothing detrimental." _Yet_ , she added silently to herself.

" _Oh."_ Armsmaster paused. _"Thank you for the information. If that's all it's about, I'll call it in."_

"That works for me." Janesha grinned. "Though I might try to catch up with you later. I have a friend who would love your autograph." She waggled her eyebrows at Taylor, who flushed, then nodded vigorously. "But we can sort that out later. Bye for now."

" _Goodbye,"_ Armsmaster responded. A moment later, the call ended.

Blackwell brought a stack of books back to the desk. "Who was that on the phone?" she asked suspiciously.

"Armsmaster," Janesha replied, having no reason to lie. "He knows there's nothing to worry about." She glanced at Taylor. "Is that all the textbooks you need?"

Taylor eyed the stack. "I guess. But I'm also going to need the rest of the stuff, too." The two of them turned to look at Blackwell expectantly.

The next twenty minutes were highly entertaining for Janesha and Taylor. Less so for Principal Blackwell, as she ransacked her own office for school supplies to replace the ones Taylor had lost. Janesha could've created it all at a moment's notice, but she chose not to. She wanted this lesson to stick. Blackwell had to learn that not only did you not fuck with any Mystallian on Earth Bet, but you also didn't fuck with the friends of Mystal either. Ever.

Just as Blackwell was gathering the last few items, Janesha took a parting look at the woman's mind in case there was any hidden agenda she'd missed, and that's when the commands she'd instilled in the principal still hung like tapestries in the woman's mind. Shit! She hadn't realised she'd made the 'Today. Before first period.' a command. That was a loss of temper that would've had the woman trying to complete EVERYTHING before first period today, even things she had no chance of doing. As much as she didn't like the woman, she didn't want her breaking due to an unfulfilled celestial command. So she removed that one.

Finally, leaving with Blackwell's own desk stapler joining the rest of the supplies in the replacement backpack—located in what had once been a lost-and-found drawer, and refurbished by Janesha—Taylor and Janesha left the office. Reaching ahead, Janesha unsealed the outer office door from its frame, then opened it.

Outside stood a group of adults. Janesha figured them to be teachers, but she didn't really care. "Hi," she said. "Taylor needs to get to class. Coming through." She stepped forward, with the full intent of walking right over the top of anyone who stayed in her way. Fortunately for those in the hallway, they stepped aside.

"Wait—" began one, a youngish-looking man. "Who _are_ you? What's going on here?"

Taylor stepped right up to him and looked him in the eye. She was, Janesha noted with amusement, an inch or so taller than him. "That's a question you should've started asking a long time ago, Mr Gladly," she said bluntly. "I'll see you in class."

"Me, too," Janesha added with a fingertip wave. "Come on, Taylor."

"Holy crap," Taylor muttered as they walked away. "I can't believe I just said that. Hell, I can't believe we're not both in fucking _detention."_

"We're not in detention because I wasn't going to allow that shit," Janesha said firmly. "Now, you've got your stuff. Did you want just go home now? Because we can totally do that if this has been enough excitement for one day."

Taylor considered that. "It might be nice," she allowed. "But what would a Mystallian choose? What would _you_ do?"

Janesha grinned. "I'd stay, and I'd stick it to 'em every chance I got. Mystallians don't back down, and we don't retreat. Anyone who wants to fuck with us learns the hard way what a mistake that is."

"Then that's what I'll do," Taylor decided as they turned a corner. "I'll—"

"You'll do _what,_ Hebert?" The new voice was harsh and uncompromising. Janesha and Taylor stopped face to face with three girls. The speaker was a black girl wearing athletic gear; and she was flanked by a pretty redhead and a petite brunette. There was no need for introductions. Janesha knew all three faces like the back of her hand.

"She'll go to class," Janesha said. She tilted her head as the bell rang. "Just like the rest of you should be doing, I'd say."

Sophia Hess sneered at her. Janesha restrained the impulse to punch the expression to the other side of her head. "So, who are _you?_ Some nobody she bribed to wear a costume and put on a show, so she looks like somebody?"

Janesha let one corner of her mouth creep up in a half-smile. "Well, I'm definitely not a cape, if that's what you're worried about. I'm just a concerned friend." She waved her hand toward her face. "See, no mask."

"You don't want to be friends with _her,"_ Emma Barnes stated with conviction. "She's a nobody. She's _less_ than nobody. If you're not careful, she'll drag you down with her."

"Yeah," Madison Clements chimed in. "You probably didn't hear about this from her, but the word going around is that she shut herself in her own locker last week, just for the— _waugh!"_ As tempting as it had been to be the one to break every bone in her body, Janesha shifted the space under the yes-girl's feet to the slickest, most transparent slime she could think of, and consequently the mouthy bitch landed heavily on her butt, looking up with surprise and indignation at Janesha. "You pushed me!"

Janesha removed the slime, returning the floor to concrete tile. "Maybe you'd better shut up now," she said softly, fighting back her temper with insane difficulty. Just in case she did lose it, she didn't want Taylor to see the sort of mess that she could make. "Taylor, get to class. I'll be along shortly."

Taylor obviously wanted to stay, but Janesha added a firm nod to make sure she went. She didn't want Taylor anywhere around the shitstorm that was going to result from what she did next. With one last reluctant look, Taylor headed off down the corridor.

"Okay, smart bitch," Sophia said with a sneer, cracking her knuckles. "You just sent your last witness away. Any last words, not-a-cape?"

"Plenty, actually. But first …" Janesha held up one finger and nodded toward a nearby door, which led into a girls' restroom. "I'm going to go to the bathroom. I hate punching bitches on a full bladder." Without giving them a chance to respond, she shoved past them and headed for the restroom.

Sophia followed her, of course. The beating that the Ward intended to inflict on her would be easier to pull off without any inconvenient witnesses. Janesha couldn't have set things up better if she'd arranged matters herself.

She stepped into the restroom, noting the stalls along one side and the basins on the other. The door, on the way to swinging shut, opened again to admit the dark-skinned Sophia. She turned to face the girl, noting that the other two—as expected—hadn't followed her in. This just made things easier for her, of course.

"Okay, you little queef," Sophia snapped. "If you grovel and kiss the toe of my boot, I might not kick your ass. Otherwise, I am gonna—"

Janesha had _had_ it! Without a word of warning, she stepped forward and grabbed Sophia by the arm, then pulled them both through into the celestial realm. Overhead, the glowing sky made it clear this wasn't any version of Earth Bet. Around them, the crystalline formations merely underlined that fact.

"The _fuck?"_ Sophia stared around at the alien surroundings. "Where the fuck is this? Where did you bring me?"

"I told you, I'm no cape. _This,_ is the celestial realm. _My_ home … and the source of all your powers." As expected, there was indeed a twisted rope of coruscating colours, fading from red to grey and back again, stretching into the distance from the girl's head. She hadn't let go Sophia's arm, and now she froze her again. "You see, Taylor doesn't want her powers. She hates them. But I've never actually tried to remove someone's powers before, and I really don't want to hurt her. And I really, _really_ don't want to kill her, so thank you for volunteering to be my guinea-pig in this matter."

Sophia tried to jerk away from Janesha's grip, but her body and mind were both under the celestial's control. _What the fuck?_ her mind demanded. _Fucking let me go right now, you cow!_ She tried to exert her power, to become ghostly, but Janesha suppressed that impulse as fast as she made it.

"Oh, I really wish I could have brought Taylor here to watch your demise. But she's too nice. She would've tried to stop me."

 _Fuck you!_

"No," Janesha purred, allowing her eyes to shift into demonic hellfire for no other reason than to put the wind up Sophia. She also allowed her voice to drop into a hellion growl as she leaned forward, putting their foreheads together. "Fuck you, _Shadow Stalker_." With a raised hand, she took hold of the energy rope that was attached to Sophia's head and gave it a testing tug. A quick search of Sophia's memories showed the intense flare of pain she'd felt. "Hmmm," she said, as soon as she returned to the physical realm. "Not like that, then. That'll kill Taylor for sure."

 _Wait, what the fuck? Hebert's a cape? And you know who I am?!_

"Wow, you're really fast on the uptake, aren't you?" Janesha jeered, curling her lip in disgust. "Yes, she's a cape. For now, anyway." She put her hand closer to Sophia's head, and twisted the rope slightly. "I wonder …" The pain response from Sophia was somewhat less. "Hmm, okay. Time to give it the old college try. I'd say brace yourself, but I don't mind if you scream. Actually, I'd kinda like it if you did." Taking a better grip, she twisted and tugged.

 _Wai—_ Sophia's thought didn't get all the way through before the rope came free of her head. Without even a mental whimper from Sophia, too. Well, that was … both fortunate and anticlimactic all at the same time. She hadn't wanted to hurt Taylor, but a little more agony from Sophia would've been poetic. Returning her features to normal, Janesha held up the cord, examining the end of it, figuring out how it would plug into someone's brain. For a celestial construct, it was quite ingenious. And Sophia hadn't died, so that was good news for Taylor.

When she let go of the 'rope', it whipped back into the distance, vanishing from sight in an instant. Janesha took a tighter hold of Sophia and allowed her to move again, just enough to haul her back into the mortal realm …. specifically, the Winslow girls' toilets. She then dove into the bully's mind. As tempting as it would have been to leave the bitch with all her justifiable celestial knowledge, she needed to pull it all back to prevent anyone from learning she was a celest. Instead, she replaced the memory with one of Sophia grabbing her by the arm, and Janesha breaking that contact and grabbing Sophia's arm instead. That fit with the physical realm image of her holding Sophia's arm. From there, she returned to the physical realm, tossed her arm aside and went into the nearest cubicle, banging the door closed just hard enough to irk the other teen.

"What the _fuck?"_ she heard from outside the cubicle. "Did you just shut that in my face? You do not shut that in my face, bitch!" She heard footsteps as Sophia backed up, then ran toward the stall door. Next, there was a resounding thud and the door shook. Janesha heard a cry of pain from Sophia.

Janesha touched the door, transforming it to a one-way window, transparent from her side and opaque from the other. It showed Sophia sprawled on the floor in the middle of the restroom, groggily shaking her head. The main door of the bathroom burst open, and in ran Madison and Emma.

This was as good an opportunity as any.

Returning the door to its original state, she flushed the toilet then unlocked the door and stepped out. Emma stared at Sophia, then looked accusingly at Janesha. "What the hell did you do to her?"

Janesha made her expression unreadable and shrugged. "Wasn't me. I was in the toilet and she tried to bash the door down. You might want to speak to her about her anger issues." Moving to the sink, she ran water over her gloves, then headed for the door. Her gloves were dry by the time she got there.

The last thing she saw of the three as the door closed behind her was Sophia sitting up and rubbing an obviously bruised forehead.

 _One down, two to go._

* * *

End of Part Six


	7. Chapter 7

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Seven: Official Attention

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Karen Buckeridge, author of Ties That Bind.]_

* * *

 **Emma**

* * *

"What happened?" asked Emma, after the door had swung shut behind the costumed girl. "Did she attack you? Are you hurt?" Bending over Sophia, she offered her hand.

"I'm all right," Sophia snapped, pushing the hand away. She shook her head, as if still dizzy from the hit. "She didn't attack _shit._ I just tried to …" She paused and glanced at Madison, then hooked her head toward the door. "Get out there and stop anyone from coming in."

"But I want to hear what happened," Madison objected. Her eyes moved from Sophia to Emma, silently appealing to the redhead.

"Do what she says," Emma replied, knowing that following Sophia's lead was the only way forward at this stage. Madison knew of Sophia's cape identity, but nobody else in the school except certain teachers did. Keeping things this way was a desirable state of affairs.

Madison pouted adorably—Emma knew for a fact that the petite brunette actually practiced the expression in front of the mirror—but did as she was told. Which was smart of her, because Sophia didn't look in the mood to take any kind of shit right then. After the door closed behind her, Sophia climbed to her feet and checked the other toilet stalls.

"Sophia, what _happened_?" Emma stared at Sophia, not bothering to disguise her curiosity. "If she didn't attack you …" Her voice trailed off as she tried and failed to envisage a scenario where Sophia attempted to attack the new girl and _lost._ Sophia was a cape. A _Ward._ She didn't lose that easily. Or at all, really.

Sophia scowled, then turned toward the stained mirror that lined the wall above the basins. Leaning in, she inspected her forehead closely. "I was just about to show the little cow who was boss when she pulled some judo shit and got hold of my arm instead. When I got loose, she hid in the cubicle so I wouldn't kick her ass. So I figured I'd shadow-jump to the top of the cubicle and go solid as I went over. She'd be trapped in the cubicle with me, see?"

"Right. So what happened then?" Emma had been privileged to see Sophia kicking ass on more than one occasion. Once again, her imagination wasn't up to the task of this outcome _not_ happening.

"Nothing." Sophia prodded the fresh lump on her forehead, as if she could make it go down with sheer willpower.

Emma was hurt by the abrupt shut-down. Sophia was her best friend and they shared everything, especially when it came to Taylor. If this other girl was protecting Taylor, it was her duty as Sophia's unofficial second-in-command to come up with a way to persuade the school that the interfering bitch had to go. "Soph, what happened to your head?"

With an aggravated sigh, Sophia turned the glare on her. "I went to shadow-jump, and it didn't happen, so I ran into the cubicle door. Happy now?" She held up her hand and concentrated on it. Emma watched, wondering what was going on, as nothing apparently happened.

"What do you mean, it didn't happen?" she asked, since Sophia didn't seem willing to elaborate any farther. "You couldn't jump?"

"No." Sophia's tone was pure savagery. She tapped the side of her hand against the bench a few times and grew even angrier. "I mean, I couldn't go to shadow. I _mean,_ my powers aren't working." She clenched her fist and stared at it with such intensity that Emma half-expected her to spontaneously manifest a vision-based power on the spot. "I don't know what that bitch-faced whore did to me, or how she did it, but I don't have my powers anymore."

"Oh. Fuck." Emma wasn't even aware that she'd spoken aloud, as the ramifications of what Sophia was saying finally percolated through her brain. She didn't swear all that often, but this seemed to fit the situation perfectly.

"Yeah," agreed Sophia. "Oh, fuck."

And then her phone rang.

* * *

 **Director Emily Piggot  
PRT ENE**

* * *

Brockton Bay had apparently outgrown UFO sightings and was now specialising in flying-horse sightings. Ironically, the first of these had been posted online the day before from the Scottish Highlands. The image was blurred and streaked to an almost indecipherable degree, but if Emily squinted and turned her head just right, she could just about see the golden horse with the grey and blue wings. Still this would've been ignored and derided in equal parts except for what came next.

The ones from Brockton Bay proper were a lot clearer. This was mainly because the first ones had been turned in as part of the report Armsmaster had given on the capture of the Merchants. According to him, the horse was called Cloudstrike, and its rider had given the name 'Janesha of Mystal'. From the language in the report, Janesha had impressed the man considerably. He also had footage of the animal vanishing so fast even his highly efficient helmet camera only caught a blur. Which should've been patently ridiculous, but there it was.

It had returned thirty-five minutes later, while the PRT was still involved in dealing with the wreckage of Squealer's tank. Two teenage girls, one easily recognisable as Janesha by her costume, had appeared from nowhere, and Janesha had let out the Whistle.

Emily hadn't heard the Whistle, but everyone in the northern part of the city apparently had. As had everyone in Maine, eastern Canada, and most of Europe, if the reports were true. Not a single window had been broken and not a single eardrum had been blown out, while audio recordings had demonstrated a uniform volume from Portland, Maine to Paris, France. From all appearances, the black-costumed girl had used that impossible whistle to summon the flying horse (possibly a projection) from wherever it had been. She and her companion had then gotten on its back and flown off before officers could speak with them.

Phone camera footage, much lower definition than Armsmaster's but still adequate to the task, depicted what appeared to be the same winged horse flying along the Boardwalk, with the same two riders. One hoodie-wearing teenager was much the same as another, but the costume sported by the dark-skinned girl was both striking and unique, fitting the description of Janesha to a T.

They'd been accosted by Glory Girl, then suddenly accelerated out of sight. PHO, with its army of tireless weirdness watchers, had reported on an unverified sighting of a flying horse in the air near Corcovado, in Rio de Janeiro. The fact that this sighting had taken place mere _seconds_ after their disappearance from the Boardwalk, and that a golden streak had crossed the sky over Bermuda in that same timeframe, merely made Emily sigh and massage her temples with her fingertips. _Fucking capes._

And now, fresh across her desk, were yet _more_ sightings. The only reason they had made it that far, and in fact the only reason she was paying more than cursory attention to _any_ of this, was that the first one involved a couple of Dragon's telescopes spotting the winged horse, with the same two passengers, _coming in from outer space_ and buzzing the _Simurgh,_ mere minutes previously. One still shot showed Janesha looking back over her shoulder, presumably at the Simurgh, and flipping her the bird. Another portrayed the Simurgh herself, a look of startled shock clearly visible on that normally impassive alabaster visage.

What put the final nail in the coffin containing Emily's desire to ignore any and all of this, was that the second sighting showed the horse touching down at Winslow High School just a short time later and letting off its passengers. Who had then walked inside while the horse took flight then vanished (which only strengthened Emily's suspicion that it was a projection).

Emily Piggot had nothing special against capes, if she ignored the very cogent desire to have them follow the law in every particular. But whoever the Master was behind the flying-horse projection—probably Janesha of Mystal, whatever or wherever 'Mystal' was—Winslow was possibly the _last_ place they should've gone for their shenanigans. Janesha had the exact wrong skin colour to let her fit in around any Empire recruits on site, especially if she made it look as though she was there to 'clean up' the school. Even Shadow Stalker had never been quite _that_ idiotic.

 _Speaking of Shadow Stalker …_ She searched her inbox for any report from the Winslow Ward. None had shown up yet, which made her frown. She'd thought the girl was more on top of matters than this. _Well, it's been a while since I lit a fire under the ass of someone who's going slower than they should._

Picking up her phone, she hit speed-dial and waited. She wouldn't be making the actual call herself, of course. She had people for that.

* * *

 **Sophia**

* * *

Even as she clawed the phone out of her pocket, Sophia wondered how the PRT had heard so fast about her power loss. _I only found out about it a few seconds ago. Did a precog tell them?_

Swiping to answer it, she held the phone to her ear. "Hello?" she said, as neutrally as she could manage.

 _"Shadow Stalker, this is Deputy Director Renick."_ The old man's dry-as-dust tones sounded unworried. _"Are you aware of the cape who arrived at Winslow today?"_

Sophia's eyes went wide. They knew about the bitch, but not about the actual power theft. "Hell yes, I'm aware of her," she spat. "She just cornered me in the bathroom and stole my fucking _powers,_ is what she did!"

There was a long pause. _"Could you please repeat that?"_ asked Renick. _"Include as much detail as you can."_

"Okay, I saw her in the corridor," Sophia said, improvising rapidly. "Black girl, black costume, long cape, yeah? She got rough with one of my friends, but I told her to back off. Then I went to the bathroom and she followed me in. Grabbed me by the arm, made me hit my head on the cubicle door, then left. And now I've got no fucking powers at all. I've been trying to go shadow and it's just not working."

 _"As I understand matters, you shouldn't be trying to use your powers at all while you're at school."_ Of all the fucking times for Renick to be on the ball. _"How did you learn of their loss?"_

"I, uh, I was on my ass, on the floor," Sophia said. "When I went to get up, I slipped because I was dizzy. I tried to go shadow so I wouldn't fall on my ass again. But it didn't work. That bitch stole my goddamn _powers!"_

 _"Calm down,"_ Renick advised her. _"We'll contact your liaison, and get you released from school early. A vehicle will be sent to bring you to the PRT building, and we'll put you through a full screening. It may well be an area effect, like Hatchet Face. Once you're out of the area, you might be fine. Or there might be a duration involved. Did you try to use your powers before she made physical contact with you?"_

Sophia snorted. It was a good try at tripping her into a confession that she'd been using her powers illicitly, but she was wise to that bullshit. Besides, he had a point. She'd never heard of anyone who could steal powers by touch before. "No. Just afterward. But seriously, you need to get people to the school and arrest her right the hell now. That bitch is a goddamn psycho, the way she was going at my friends."

 _"That is very concerning."_ Renick seemed to have picked up on the urgency of the matter. _"Just so you know; she's been observed to use other powers. Have you seen her exhibiting a Brute rating, a Mover rating or a Master projection ability?"_

That was a question she hadn't been anticipating. "Uh, no. I didn't see any projections or Movement ability. She might be pretty strong, though." _Also like Hatchet Face,_ she didn't say. That was one cape she didn't ever want to tangle with. But she was perfectly happy with throwing whatever-her-face-was to the PRT wolves.

 _"Understood."_ It sounded like Renick was typing. _"Now, to avoid any misunderstandings, did this girl identify herself to you? Does the name Janesha of Mystal ring a bell?"_

"Nope, she didn't say her name at all," Sophia said. "But you won't miss her. She's the one who walks and talks like she owns the whole fucking school and she's just letting the rest of us use it for the moment."

 _"That does more or less fit with Armsmaster's assessment of the young lady,"_ Renick mused, more to himself than to her. _"Very well. Go to the principal's office and I'll see about getting you released for the day. You need to be screened immediately to ensure that there are no other ill effects and to see if your powers are likely to return."_

That was exactly what Sophia intended to do, but there was something else she needed to say. "Okay, I'm on my way, but one more thing."

 _"I'm listening."_

Sophia took a deep breath, wanting this to come out exactly right. "She's violent. You can't give her a chance to react. And there's this other bitch with her. Some skank called Taylor Hebert, egging her on. She needs to be dealt with too."

More typing. _"Understood. We appreciate the heads-up. Do you have a description of this other girl? And how's her last name spelled?"_ It sounded like Renick was buying this shit hook, line and sinker.

"Uh, yeah. Tall skinny white bitch, long black hair, wearing a hoodie. School shooter type, you know? Total loser, total loner. That's H-E-B-E-R-T." Sophia shared a vicious grin with Emma and pumped her fist in victory. _I don't lose._ It was her mantra, and Janesha of Whorebagville was going to learn that.

 _"Understood. Tell your friends to avoid her and go to the principal's office. We'll deal with matters from this end. If there was nothing else?"_

"Uh, nope. Nothing else." Sophia hung up the call, then high-fived Emma. She still didn't have her powers back—she checked again, and they were still gone—but she'd _never_ heard of a cape stealing or nullifying someone's powers permanently, at least without killing them. So things were looking up.

"What happens now?" asked Emma. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, _I'm_ getting the day off school," Sophia announced with some satisfaction. "They're gonna see what's going on with my powers at the PRT building. And while I'm there, I'm gonna sink that bitch's ass all the way to bedrock. By the time I'm finished with her, they're gonna fuckin' _Birdcage_ her."

"Can I come, too? I can back your story up." Emma looked hopeful, but she wasn't fooling Sophia. She just wanted the day off school too.

Sophia grinned. "Nice try. Stay here in school, and if you run into Hebert once the PRT and Protectorate have carted off her bitch-ass friend, leave her something to remember me by, huh?" By which she meant, _find her if you have to track her down all over the fucking school, and fuck her shit up good._

Emma nodded, smiling nastily. "Sure. I can definitely do that."

"Excellent." Sophia slapped her on the shoulder. "It's good to have friends I can depend on."

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

Taylor wasn't certain if there'd been a spare computer desk in Mrs Knott's classroom before, but there was one now. She'd dumped her new backpack on the chair to indicate that it was taken and sat at the next desk over. Janesha didn't appear for a few minutes, making Taylor wonder what was keeping her. Then she started to worry that she would miss whatever comeuppance her new friend had planned for Emma and the others. The one thing she didn't worry about was that Emma or Sophia might somehow get the better of Janesha.

Finally, Janesha entered the room and strolled down toward where Taylor was sitting. Reaching across, Taylor hefted the backpack off the chair, freeing it up. Everyone turned to look at the teenage celestial; not just because of her Mystallian uniform. Taylor had seen this once or twice before. Without appearing to be aware that she was doing it, Janesha seemed to become indefinably more _real_ than anyone else in the room.

Mrs Knott looked up from her paperwork. "Oh, hello," she said uncertainly. "I don't believe I know you?"

Janesha smiled brilliantly. "I'm Janesha of Mystal. I just transferred in. Taylor was nice enough to invite me to sit with her." Without missing a beat, she pulled out the chair that Taylor had reserved for her and sat down, flaring her cape to hang down the seat-back. Taylor knew her well enough by now to suspect that at least half of that move was shapeshifter bullshit, but from the outside it just looked like pure skill.

"Oh." Entirely unsurprisingly, Mrs Knott accepted Janesha's statement at face value. Taylor decided with an internal smirk that the girl hadn't even technically lied, though she was stretching the definition of 'transferred in' all the way to its maximum and a few light-years beyond. And there was absolutely no doubt in Taylor's mind that Janesha had 'helped' Mrs Knott to come to the decision to accept her story. "All right, then. Taylor should be able to help you get up to speed in the class. Though, uh …" The teacher eyed Janesha's garb with a certain amount of curiosity.

"This is my family uniform," Janesha informed her, pride evident in every word. "Wherever I go, I represent Mystal, so I wear the uniform." Those were more than just words, Taylor decided. That was a rock-solid assurance that wherever any Mystallian went, there too went Mystal.

 _Wow, I'm even starting to think like her._ Taylor wasn't totally certain if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Celestials could get away with that sort of attitude, because they could absolutely back it up. With mortals (and she'd _never_ thought she would be thinking of herself in that context) it was a lot less certain. Of course, with Janesha in her corner, Taylor's lot in life was looking rather better than it had a day or two ago.

She couldn't wait to find out what had happened in her absence. That something _had_ happened, she was certain. What she _didn't_ know was exactly _what._ Had they tried to convince Janesha to walk away from Taylor? Or had Sophia just cut to the chase and attempted to beat her up? If the latter had happened, Taylor was beginning to regret not hanging around. The mental image of Janesha casually beating Sophia up demanded a comfortable chair and a decent supply of popcorn.

Of course, now that Janesha was here, she didn't have to wait any longer. "What kept you?" she murmured.

"Kicking ass. Taking names. Learning stuff. Turning a lie into the truth. Tell you about it later." Janesha seemed inordinately pleased with herself.

That was not an answer. Taylor had just opened her mouth to point this out to Janesha, when Mrs Knott cleared her throat. "All right, everyone. Time to start. Who's got their homework from last night?" As everyone began to shuffle through their bags and produce the required thumb-drives, the teacher stepped around her desk. Coming down to where Taylor and Janesha sat, she placed a stack of papers on Taylor's desk.

"These are the chapters that you missed," she said quietly. "I'm personally certain that you know most of this material already, so if you could start handing in the end-of-chapter tests by Monday, I'll let you catch up in your own time." She turned to the teenage celestial. "Janesha, wasn't it?"

This got her a nod and a confident smile. "Yes. Janesha of Mystal."

"Thank you." Mrs Knott returned the nod. "Where were you enrolled before you came to Winslow?"

Taylor tensed slightly at the question, but Janesha never hesitated. "I was mainly home-schooled, out of state. But my tutors were very thorough. I'm sure I'll be able to pick up where you are pretty quickly."

"Oh, good." Mrs Knott indicated Taylor with a gesture. "If you have any problems, Taylor's one of my best students. I'm sure she'll be able to help you out, won't you, Taylor?"

"Sure thing, Mrs Knott." Taylor tried to keep her tone polite. While she liked Mrs Knott—as much as she liked any of the teachers at Winslow, and a good deal more than she liked some of them—it was still a little irritating to be volunteered without being asked. On the other hand, Janesha was turning out to be an amazing friend, and Taylor wouldn't begrudge her any help she needed. Not that Janesha needed it, if Taylor was right about the celestial girl's mind-bending capabilities.

"Thank you, Taylor." Mrs Knott leaned closer and lowered her voice. "I just want to say, I'm very sorry about what happened to you. If you need any extra time, just let me know."

 _Too little, too late._ Taylor tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Yeah, thanks. I'll keep that in mind." None of the bullying had ever happened in Mrs Knott's class, but that probably owed more to the fact that neither Emma nor her cronies shared that class with her than to any action by the teacher.

From the momentary flash of distress that crossed her face, Mrs Knott had heard the undertones in Taylor's voice. She chose not to say anything, limiting herself to a tight smile and an equally tight nod before she returned to the front of the room.

Taylor hit the switch to boot her computer up before picking up the stack of papers and starting to riffle through them. She was three sheets in before Janesha leaned across slightly. "She doesn't know, you know."

"What?" Taylor turned to look at the other girl. "What doesn't she know?" Several options chased through her mind. It was entirely unlikely that Mrs Knott didn't know about the fact that she was being bullied, or about her being locked in her locker. Was it supposed to be unusual that Mrs Knott didn't know Emma, Sophia and Madison were the ringleaders of her bullying problem?

"She didn't know Sophia's—" Janesha broke off. "Shit, I never told you that bit." She eyed Taylor carefully. "Okay, look. I've got some drastic news for you. The kind that's going to have you shouting … like a lot. Let me set up somewhere where you can scream the rafters down and no one will ever know." She met Taylor's eyes with steely focus. "I need to use my bending to put you there. You okay with that?"

Taylor was instantly suspicious. "So what _about_ Sophia?" This had to have something to do with why Janesha had stayed back with Emma and the others.

"You heard the deal, Taylor. Give me permission, and you'll find out. I won't force you."

Taylor only hesitated for a moment. In the short time she'd known Janesha, the young celestial had earned her gratitude and her trust. If she had something so volatile for Taylor to know that it could only be traded in the privacy of a mind-bending link, then that was where they'd go. "Do it," she said.

In the next instant, Taylor found herself standing in a pure white space with her hand clasped in Janesha's. The Mystallian's cape flared dramatically in a non-existent breeze. "Okay," she said cheerfully, dropping Taylor's hand and cracking her knuckles. "Let's give you a nice, safe space to be in while you hear what I've got to say."

"Safe space?" asked Taylor, not at all sure what was going on.

"Sure," Janesha said. A room faded into existence around them, details filling in until Taylor recognised the living room at home. She stamped her foot on the floor, feeling the solidity under her heel and hearing the familiar hollow thump. Turning to the window, she looked out at the street she knew so well. A car rolled past.

"Holy crap." Taylor moved over to the sofa and squeezed the armrest with her hand. It felt absolutely real. "Did you just step us home, or are we actually inside my mind right now?"

"We call it internalising, but I think from memory your term for it is a lucid dream. Basically, we're inside your imagination. You won't find any details out of place. Unlike a regular dream, you're experiencing exactly what you expect to experience in this room." Janesha sat down on the sofa, leaning back with her arms spread on the backrest. "So, here's the thing. Sophia had a double life. In the daytime, she was Sophia Hess, absolute bitch that made your life a living nightmare. At night, she was Shadow Stalker. Still an absolute bitch, but also a probationary Ward."

Taylor, halfway over to the TV, stopped dead and turned around. "Fucking _what_?" she snarled. "Are you … no, you're not." As the ramifications of those words fully sank in, Taylor shook her head. "You wouldn't joke about shit like that. What the living goddamn _fuck_?" As Janesha had predicted, her voice rose dramatically. "How the fuck could that _bitch_ be a superhero? She shut me in my fucking _locker_!"

"Well, I don't know _all_ the details yet," Janesha noted in a way that said _but I soon will,_ "but that's the gist of it. Apparently, all of Sophia's teachers know that she's supposed to be allowed to leave class whenever with no repercussions. Only a handful of them know that she's actually a Ward and Mrs Knott isn't one of them. In fact, she's still in the dark about most of the bullying and has no idea why more isn't being done about your locker thing. She tried asking questions when it happened, but she was told that it involved high-level school policy and it wasn't her business."

Taylor blinked. "She actually tried to stand up for me?" It was a weird feeling, knowing that someone had been on her side all along, but hadn't been able to act. Suddenly, she felt a bit more charitable toward the Computer Studies teacher.

"Accent on 'tried'," Janesha said dryly. "And they sledged her for it. She persisted for a while, but then they started threatening her job if she didn't learn when to butt out." Janesha relaxed against the seat. "She's like every other mortal on this mudball of a planet, petal. She's got bills to pay and she didn't want to lose her job, so she backed off."

"Oh." It was a little disappointing that Mrs Knott hadn't tried to do more, but Taylor supposed the teacher had a life of her own and hadn't wanted to lose her job over the situation. "So what happens now?" Anger was still growing within her gut; a roiling heat that was all directed at one person. "And how soon can I punch Sophia in the face?"

Janesha chuckled. "The real Sophia's been dealt with already. Trust me. I hit that skank where she'll feel it the most. Do you want to rant anymore? You can, if you like. We've got all the time in existence while we're in here."

Taylor looked at her friend. "You really can just spend however long you want in someone's head, and no real time passes."

One side of Janesha's lips curled upwards wryly. "Yeah, petal. I really can." She then pulled her arms off the chair and dropped them into her lap. "But remember, this is your imagination. It's not real, in the physical sense. Like I said, it's more like a lucid dream."

Taylor's own lips began to twitch. "Can I dream about punching Sophia in the head?"

Janesha threw her head back and laughed. Then she created a faux Sophia right in front of Taylor, complete with dirty scowl. "Have at it, petal. Kill her as many times as you like, as creatively as you like."

Taylor paused, her hand already drawn to shoulder-height in anticipation of the punch. "I never said I wanted to kill her …"

Janesha waved her concerns away. "Then don't. It's entirely up to you."

For the next few minutes, Taylor enjoyed the entirely novel sensation of beating up on Sophia. The dream-construct of her bully, as imaginary as she knew it to be, looked and felt like the real thing, especially when Taylor's knuckles came into contact and sent 'Sophia' flying across the room with a cry of pain. The construct attempted to defend herself but her return blows glanced harmlessly from Taylor's skin, leaving her open to be decked again. Taylor obliged with relish.

It wasn't really a fight; more a one-sided slaughter. Which was the whole idea, she supposed. Knowing that she couldn't help but win didn't actually detract from the visceral satisfaction of the experience. She'd needed this for a very long time.

The whole time this was going on, Janesha sat on the couch. She'd removed her left glove and was shaping her nails with a file she produced from nowhere.

'Sophia' threw a weak kick her way, and Taylor seized both her opportunity and the construct's ankle. Spinning around in a circle with the wailing imaginary girl at arm's length—Janesha ducked as 'Sophia' passed overhead—she let go. The construct flew across the room and smashed face-first through the TV and the wall behind, coming to rest with just her butt and legs protruding.

Panting a little, more for effect than because she needed to, Taylor turned to where Janesha sat. "Okay, I've got it out of my system," she declared. Glancing over her shoulder at the ruined TV and vanquished construct, she added, "For now, anyway."

Janesha smiled and rose to stand in front of her. "Then let's get out of here."

Taylor was just about to put her hand in Janesha's when something occurred to her. "Wait!" she said, pulling her hand away. "What did you do to Sophia?"

Janesha's grin turned predatory. "How about we put a pin in that until lunchtime? I've just realised how long we've been in here, and if we stay any longer you might forget where we're at in the physical realm." She tapped the side of her own head. "I can blend the two moments seamlessly within my memory. You can't."

Taylor sighed. She wanted to know a lot more than Janesha had told her so far, but she had to accept that the other girl knew what she was talking about. "Okay, sure," she conceded. "But we _are_ coming back to this topic."

"Whenever you want," agreed Janesha. In another moment, they were back in the computer class, as if they'd never left. Which, Taylor supposed, they hadn't.

She watched as Janesha glanced at one of the students toward the front of the class. The celestial then booted up her own computer and started to work on it, as if she'd been using one for months. _If she can sample someone's memories, I guess she really has._

* * *

 **Director Emily Piggot  
PRT ENE**

* * *

The phone rang. Reflexively, Emily picked it up. "Piggot."

 _"Director …"_ It was Deputy Director Renick.

She internally winced, with the certain knowledge of what the next four words were going to be. 'We have a situation'. She'd lost count of the number of the ulcers she'd acquired which could be linked to that phrase. "Talk to me," she ordered.

 _"You need to come down to Testing."_ Renick didn't often sound rattled, but this was one of those few times. _"It's about Shadow Stalker."_

It wasn't what she'd thought it was going to be, but no part of that sounded good. Testing, by definition, involved close proximity with capes, never Emily's favourite people. Worse, Shadow Stalker had almost literally been a loose cannon before her induction into the Wards. Only the Protectorate's constant need for new recruits had allowed her to even consider allowing Hess to join on a probationary basis.

Heaving herself to her feet, Emily grimaced as her calf muscles complained. "I'm on my way down." Putting the phone down, she limped from her office.

The elevator ride was short, but it allowed her to get her thoughts into order. Whatever Renick wanted her to see, it was something he didn't want to talk to her over the phone about. On the upside, it wasn't a dire emergency, or every siren in the building would've been blaring. Still, it was enough to make him request her personal presence. The Wards were his domain, and as far as she was concerned he was welcome to them. Which made his phone call all the more perplexing.

She stepped from the elevator and headed along the corridor to Testing. Inside, she met Renick. "Okay, what's this about?" she asked bluntly. "What's Shadow Stalker done now?" In her mind, it was very simple. If the probationary Ward had broken her probation, her Wards membership would be stripped from her. But Renick _knew_ this. So why had he called on her?

Tall, spare, grey-haired before his time, he looked more like an undertaker than a PRT deputy director, but he knew his job backward and forwards, which his next words proved. "She's lost her powers."

His words brought her up short like a slap in the face. "Explain."

For any cape to demonstrate the ability to nullify another cape's powers was a game-changer. Powers were what _made_ capes what they were. But no Trump she'd ever heard of with that ability had more than a temporary effect. For Stalker to lose her powers permanently was (as far as she knew) impossible. Yet Renick knew his job better than to make a claim like that on flimsy evidence.

Renick nodded. "You called me earlier, about that new cape going to Winslow. Remember? Janesha of Mystal?"

"Yes, of course." The matter had slipped her mind after delegating the matter to Renick. As far as she'd been concerned, it was dealt with. "What happened when you contacted Shadow Stalker?"

"This is where it gets problematic," Renick confessed. "When I contacted her, she claimed that she and her friends had been harassed by the cape, who then did something to strip her of her powers. I had her report to the PRT building immediately, and we've been testing her for everything we can find. Only one anomaly has shown up so far."

Emily frowned. "What, _apart_ from the fact that her powers are AWOL for the moment?" She was still coming to terms with that one fact. Anyone who could reliably remove cape powers at will would quickly become both notorious and famous, among certain members of the cape population and anti-cape factions respectively.

"Yes, apart from that." Renick paused for effect. When he spoke next, his tone was measured, as if he didn't quite believe what he was saying himself. "You see, they did a routine MRI to check on her Corona Pollentia, to see if there were any problems with her gemma."

As far as Emily was aware, the number of power problems involving that part of the brain were minimal, mainly because anything getting in to damage it would probably kill the person involved. Still, Renick was leading up to _something_ , and the inference was that Shadow Stalker was still alive. "And what did they find?"

"Nothing." Renick spread his hands. "And by that, I mean they didn't find her Corona Pollentia, at all. It's … gone."

"That's impossible." The words popped out of Emily's mouth before she'd fully considered the facts of the case. The truth of the matter was that in a world of parahuman powers, 'impossible' usually meant 'check back tomorrow'. And Renick was the last person she'd ever accuse of making unsubstantiated claims. She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "You're certain about this."

"I had them run the MRI three times, and had two different doctors look at it," he explained concisely. "They all agree. Her Corona's just … gone. Like it never existed. There's no injury or scar tissue, or even a void where it was. It simply isn't there."

Emily pursed her lips. "Could she be an impostor? With enough resources, it shouldn't be impossible to find a girl of Shadow Stalker's body type and surgically modify her to be identical." She wasn't altogether sure what would be the end-goal of inserting a powerless version of Shadow Stalker into the PRT building, but it couldn't be good.

Again, Renick spread his hands. "DNA checks out. Internal bone breaks check out. Even her brain microstructures, apart from where her Corona should be, are identical to previous MRIs we've run on Shadow Stalker. Also, the personality is the same and she correctly repeated to me the salient points of the last time I spoke to her about her attitude." His mouth quirked. "Along with a lot of swearing. She's spitting mad, which _also_ fits what we know of her. Unfortunately."

Emily nodded slowly. "So she claims to be the original Shadow Stalker, and that this … Janesha of Mystal somehow removed her powers? Does she have any knowledge of how it was done? Was it an easily recognisable Striker or Blaster ability?" She was slowly coming around to the idea, but she wanted to make sure she had all the facts in hand before going forward with this.

"Not a Blaster ability, as far as she described matters." Renick rubbed his chin. "She says Janesha grabbed her by the arm at one point, but there was no special power effect, then or later. She has a bruise on her forehead, which she says happened when Janesha smacked her head into a toilet stall door. She didn't know her powers were gone until she tried to use them a few moments later. But she keeps demanding that Janesha be arrested, tried and either executed or Birdcaged. In addition, she claims there was another girl there, a non-cape, who was encouraging Janesha in her efforts."

"Well, if she's correct that Janesha did remove her powers, we're definitely going to have to talk to the young lady in question _and_ her friend," Emily noted. She wasn't going to commit to anything more until she'd actually spoken with the cape in question, of course.

"I thought so too," agreed Renick. "I've given orders for troops to assemble near the school, awaiting your final dispositions. I'm thinking we ask Janesha to come in, and get the other girl's statement on site if at all possible. We'll make it a polite request initially, and escalate only if she chooses not to play ball."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "I'm presuming you've read the file we've started on her. Armsmaster was apparently very impressed by her actions in capturing the Merchants." Renick would of course have read the file. He was meticulous like that. But it was always good to confirm.

"Oh, yes." Renick nodded. "With the Brute and Mover ratings she's shown off, not to mention the way she modified Mush's outer coating on the fly, I'm not at all sanguine that containment foam will work on her." He frowned in concentration. "If she _can_ remove powers by touch, we need to keep Strikers away from her. Normally, I'd bring in Assault to counter her Brute aspect, but that's a no-show in this situation. Armsmaster, because they've already met, and Dauntless as a backup? Unless, of course, you were willing to authorise the use of the Wards in this situation?"

Emily knew where he was going with this one. Vista and Clockblocker— _god,_ she hated that name—had the potential to be a truly devastating duo, if they'd just practise more. Kid Win's Tinkertech gave him Mover and Blaster abilities, and Triumph could also strike from range. But she shook her head. "No. She may be just a girl, but she's too powerful to risk the Wards against. We'll go with Armsmaster and Dauntless."

"Of course." Renick tilted his head slightly. "And might I suggest one other thing?"

"Suggest away." Emily was always open to Renick's input. She had the military experience, but he was better with people.

"Shadow Stalker mentioned she had friends of her own there. It will probably be a good idea to get their statements on the matter, as well."

Emily's eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. "Are you saying she let her friends in on her secret?" If it wasn't one thing, she decided, it was another. Teenagers and their absolute lack of discretion when it came to secret material were irritating in the extreme.

Renick shrugged. "The inference I'm getting is that at least one of her friends knew about it before she even joined the Wards. In any case, Shadow Stalker's handler happens to be a Ms Kirsten Bright. She's currently en route to the school, to talk to Principal Blackwell about the incident. I'm thinking her time might be more gainfully employed by speaking to Shadow Stalker's friends." Unspoken was the fact that Blackwell hadn't yet contacted _them,_ and thus probably knew as much about the situation as they did.

"Hm." That definitely made sense. If nothing else, it would be another data point to apply to the larger picture. "Make it so. You've got the names of her friends?"

"As far as I'm aware, they're in her file." Renick gestured toward the elevator. "I'm going to need to get back to my office and double-check those names before I contact Ms Bright, though."

"You do that." Emily gave him a questioning look. "Where's Shadow Stalker? I'm going to talk to her." It probably wouldn't fix anything, but she needed to get her own read on the situation.

"Examination room three, just down there." Renick pointed out one particular door, then headed toward the elevator. Halfway down the corridor, he paused and turned. "Just by the way, be aware that she's extremely agitated."

 _So, swearing up a storm._ "Understood," Emily said. She was entirely familiar with profanity and had a fair command of the art herself. It was unlikely that Stalker could shock her with bad language, and she had to hear the account from the girl herself.

Heading over to the door, Emily used her all-access swipe card to gain entry. The door beeped as it unlocked, and she stepped into the observation room beyond. Immediately, she learned what Renick had meant by 'extremely agitated'.

The observation room was relatively narrow, though this was exacerbated by banks of touch-screens. On the other side of the broad window, Shadow Stalker paced back and forth in what had to be the examination room, wearing basic coveralls and a black domino mask. In the middle of the room was an examination chair, which looked like a dentist's chair that had been redesigned by a committee of Tinkers. Which was basically what it was.

 _"—don't fucking_ ** _care_** _about 'proper chain of command' bullshit! Either let me out of this fucking room so I can go and tell the Director what the fuck's going on, or get Renick back in here so I can tell_ ** _him_** _to fucking go do it!"_

Stepping forward, Emily located the microphone and leaned in toward it. Pressing the switch, she cleared her throat. "Shadow Stalker. This is Director Piggot. Calm down and report."

The teenager stopped in mid-rant and swung toward the window. _"Director! Thank fuck you're here!"_ Which was, Emily reflected, a phrase Shadow Stalker had probably never dreamed she would utter. _"Have you arrested that Janesha bitch yet?"_

"Not yet," Emily hedged. "The Deputy Director is giving the orders to have her brought in as we speak. Is she really as dangerous as you say?" Her eyes searched Shadow Stalker's body language. She wasn't great with people in general, but most officers learned to pick out a goldbricker a mile away.

 _"Dangerous?"_ shouted Shadow Stalker. _"She's a fucking psycho! She started making all these crazy threats against my friends, and I told her to fuck off or else. She backed off, but then she followed me into the bathroom. I told her to back off again. Next thing I know, she's grabbed me by the arm and smashed my head into the bathroom stall door. When my friends came in, she bolted. She was making all kinds of creepy threats. Seriously, that bitch needs to be put down or Birdcaged."_

Emily frowned. She was getting mixed messages from Shadow Stalker's rant. A large part of it was legitimate anger, but some of it sounded a little contrived, as if Stalker was trying to make herself sound angry over something. The trouble was, she couldn't quite figure out which parts of Sophia's spiel were genuine and which were fake.

"Birdcaged?" she asked, almost amused. "How do you figure she rates that?" There were a number of ways capes could get themselves committed to the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center. A prerequisite, which Janesha actually qualified for, was to be too hard to contain in any normal prison. Between her Mover rating, her Brute rating, and her Striker-based matter-alteration ability, she would break free of any normal incarceration in a matter of minutes. If Emily was following Shadow Stalker's logic, maliciously depowering a Ward was an act heinous enough to have Janesha tried and convicted to the worst hellhole on the face of the planet.

 _"You're the fucking Director!"_ shouted Shadow Stalker. _"You fucking do the math! I'm a Ward, and she fucked my powers up totally! That's the same as basically fucking killing me! Are you gonna let that bitch get away with just walking up and taking me out of the lineup? And what about her fucking friend? If Hebert hadn't been egging her on, none of this shit would've happened! She needs to go to prison too! Shit, maybe she's a Master, and that's why the bitch did what she did! Birdcage 'em both, just to be fucking sure!"_

Emily tuned out Shadow Stalker's rant, turning away from the window while she worked her way through the implications. She'd been right on the money where it came to Shadow Stalker's thought processes, but the question now remained: was the girl correct? Or was she acting on a grudge to hurt someone who didn't deserve it?

The first sighting of Cloudstrike and Janesha had been at the Docks, near the Boat Graveyard, and the only other person reported on site was an adult man, not a teenage girl. That was one strike against this 'Taylor Hebert' being a Master.

On the other hand …

Turning back to the console, she pressed the microphone button again. "Shadow Stalker, had you ever met Janesha of Mystal before today?"

 _"No. First time I ever saw the bitch in my life. Fucking cow—"_

"Next question. How well do you know this 'Taylor Hebert' girl?"

This time, Shadow Stalker didn't answer immediately, leading Emily to decide that the girl's reply was being tailored for her ears—in other words, a lie.

 _"Not real good. She's one of those loser loners. Nobody likes her. She talks a lot of shit about being picked on, but nobody really wants anything to do with her."_

Which, if Emily's reading on the subject was accurate, presented a good chance of triggering as a Master of some sort. But there was still the fact that Shadow Stalker had taken care to only present negative details. Emily considered that for a moment, then made a carefully-crafted statement of her own.

"Well then, I suppose I should have the Hebert girl brought in for questioning as well. See if she can't shed any light on the situation."

 _"Fuck, no!"_ Shadow Stalker's eyes widened behind her mask. _"Don't let the skinny cow talk! She'll Master you, too! Or she'll order that Janesha bitch to go S-class on your asses!"_ The Ward—or rather, ex-Ward, if her power loss was indeed permanent—ran at the window and slapped her hand on to it, about three feet to Emily's left. Nothing happened, of course. _"You've got to listen to me!"_ Desperation was palpable in her voice. **_"Don't let her talk!"_**

Leaving the microphone button unpressed, Emily said, "I'll take that under advisement." She turned to the techs. "Keep her under observation for any sign of her powers returning. Make sure she gets whatever she needs to be comfortable. But she doesn't leave this testing area until I give the order. Is that understood?"

One of the techs nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Emily turned and left. The interview with Shadow Stalker had raised some questions in her mind. She had preparations to make.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

"So what did you want to know?"

Janesha pulled out a seat opposite Taylor's and sat down. They were in the cafeteria, of course. Taylor didn't even consider the possibility that her celestial friend would allow anyone to scare them away from the eating area. But she had questions to ask, and while nobody was sitting all that close to them, people were still staring at Janesha and she still didn't want to be overheard.

"Uh, can you do something to make sure nobody can hear us?" she whispered quietly. She didn't know _how_ that might be achieved, but she figured Janesha could whip up something to serve the purpose.

"Sure," agreed the other girl. A moment later, all incoming sound cut out. "I mean, I don't care one way or the other if they overhear things, but if it matters to you, it's not a problem."

"Thanks." Even though she knew nobody could eavesdrop, she leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. "What _did_ you do to Sophia?" She'd been thinking about this, and she thought she had an answer. "Did you take her powers away or something?"

Janesha's initial smirk died on her face. " _Sonova_ —!" Then she glowered at Taylor. "Lucky guess."

"Well, there was that thing when you said that crystal place had everything to do with powers," Taylor replied, trying not to feel _too_ smug. It wasn't easy. "And then there was the way you kept saying Sophia 'had' powers, not 'has' powers." Her own smirk grew at Janesha's chagrined expression. "Hey, if you're gonna give me clues then leave me hanging, I _am_ gonna figure shit out."

"Smartass," grumbled Janesha, and poked her tongue out at Taylor. "But yeah, you're right. I've taken three capes through that realm, and all three of you had ropes. So when Sophia tried to beat me up in the bathroom, I pulled her into the celestial realm and figured out how to disengage the rope without killing her. Took a bit of work, but I managed it. She's as powerless as that piece of fish on your plate. Or at least, I think it's fish."

"Yeah, I can never tell." Taylor dragged the conversation back to the previous topic. "So you can just de-power _anyone_?" She stared at Janesha, hoping that this wasn't some kind of obscure joke on the celestial's part.

"Sure." Janesha looked her in the eye. "She was my guinea pig, before I offered it to you. If you truly don't want your powers, I can make that happen."

 _Whoa, okay._ That was as direct as it got. The question was, did Taylor really want to get rid of her powers?

As far as she could tell, she had absolute and automatic control over all the bugs within a two-block radius. She could tell where they were, and if she let the signals through, she could pick up vague sensory impressions. And of course, she could control them to do anything she wanted.

 _If I keep these powers, will I be able to use them responsibly, or will I end up treating bugs as callously as celestials treat mortals?_ She recalled the arguments she and her father had had with Janesha on the subject. Celestials didn't even accept the _existence_ of a concept requiring them to treat any specific mortals with respect or consideration.

Now, looking at the bugs she was controlling once more, she had the sinking feeling that she knew what it was like to be on the celestial side of matters, and she didn't like it. No matter how she concentrated on the link, she couldn't begin to feel whatever it was bugs used for emotions or motivations. She had no way of knowing if they'd be happy under her dominion, or even if they were _capable_ of feeling happy. Every time she pulled them away from whatever they were doing to perform her bidding, she'd be throwing what passed for their lives into total chaos, and after a while she wouldn't even care.

 _I don't want to be an uncaring god, even for bugs._ Raising her eyes to Janesha's, she nodded. "Okay. I want my powers gone."

"Alrighty then, but not right here. I need room to move." Janesha eyed the food on their plates. "Did you want to eat first, or pass?"

Taylor poked her fish with a fork. It oozed slightly. "Well, it's good to see that Winslow is keeping to its usual high standards of cuisine."

"Oh, good," Janesha replied with a smirk. "You guys use sarcasm as well. I was beginning to think it went straight over your heads."

"What?"

"Nothing," Janesha grinned mischievously. "Look, what would you like the food to be?"

The temptation was too great. "That braised pork with truffles thing you made last night. That was _amazing."_ Taylor could _still_ remember the melting sensation of the food on her tongue. If that was the way celestials ate all the time, no wonder they were scornful of ordinary mortal food.

"Done." Janesha reached across the table. A moment later, she pulled it back, as fragrant steam wafted up from Janesha's plate. "Enjoy."

As she took up the first forkful, Taylor couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be able to reshape the world around her to suit her every whim. It had to be as convenient as _fuck._ She could only wonder if Janesha did anything behind the scenes for shits and giggles, that she never noticed. Or rather, _what_ Janesha did behind the scenes—period _._

"Oh, hey." Janesha's voice was casual. "Do superheroes usually come into schools on a regular basis?"

Taylor turned her head and saw what she was talking about. Armsmaster, accompanied by two PRT troopers and a woman in a suit, had just entered the cafeteria and were was walking in their direction. "Not usually, no. This is probably about Sophia. Just saying."

Janesha grinned. "Then I guess I'd better take the sonic shield down, so we can hear what they have to say." As Janesha said this, the conversations around them abruptly became audible. "Let me handle this."

"Sure, okay." Taylor had already made that decision. She felt decidedly unprepared to deal with Armsmaster right now, or at any time.

The Protectorate hero strode up to the table and stopped a couple of yards away. "Good afternoon, Janesha," he said politely. "Did you resolve the problem with the missing property?"

"Oh, yeah," Janesha replied. "Thanks for asking. So, what brings you to Winslow?" Inwardly, Taylor marvelled at how she could pull off lines like that and actually sound like she meant them.

"Actually," Armsmaster seemed a little ill at ease. "I've been given orders to ask you to accompany me back to the PRT building to help clear up a certain matter."

Janesha shrugged. "No worries. Got anything against me finishing lunch first?"

Armsmaster hesitated very slightly, then nodded. "No, but don't take too long." Moving another step closer to the table, he looked at their food for the first time. Taylor heard him sniff inside his helmet. "What _is_ that? It smells delicious."

"It is," Taylor couldn't resist putting in. "Braised pork with truffles."

"That _can't_ have been served in this cafeteria," Armsmaster stated flatly.

"Never said it was," Janesha replied with a flick of her eyebrows before going back to her meal.

Taylor couldn't hide her grin at Armsmaster's evident confusion. "Would you like to try some?" she asked, some small part of her going _squee_ at the thought of making small-talk with Armsmaster, of all people. But only a small part; hanging out with a celestial had kind of raised the bar for her sense of wonder.

His hesitation spoke volumes to her. She could tell he actually wanted to take her up on the offer. "No thank you, miss," he said eventually, reluctantly. "I'm on duty."

There was more to it, she was sure. No matter how polite he was being, his job was still to ask Janesha to come in to the PRT building so they could talk to her about Sophia's powers—or current lack thereof. There were probably rules against accepting food from the subject of such queries, just in case.

"Oh, well," Janesha said around a mouthful of her own meal. "Your loss."

Taylor would've started eating again as well, but a sudden spasm of anger caused her hands to clench around her knife and fork. As satisfying as it had been to find out that Janesha had permanently ruined Sophia's 'superhero' career, she was still _pissed_ that the Protectorate had let Sophia pretend to be a superhero for so long without any realistic oversight.

"Is everything okay, miss?" asked Armsmaster.

She breathed deeply, running through her mind's eye the numerous times she'd punched Sophia across the room within Janesha's internalisation. At some point, she wanted to do it again, for real, just once. But for now, she'd have to be happy with that. Slowly, she loosened her grip on the plastic cutlery and built a smile on her face for Armsmaster. "I'll be fine. Nothing you can help me with, anyway."

Janesha finished the last of her portion of braised pork and dropped her knife and fork on the plate. "Well, I'm done. I'll see you when I get back." She patted Taylor on the shoulder with a grin. "Don't get in too much trouble while I'm gone."

Taylor echoed the grin. She was now super-strong, bulletproof and vacuum-proof, if she understood things correctly. There wasn't anything or anyone in the school that could even _touch_ her now. "Hey, what could go wrong?"

That got her a snort from Janesha. "By the Twin Notes, don't ever say _that._ Even _Uncle Chance_ doesn't say that." She turned to the Protectorate hero. "So, just out of curiosity, how are we getting to the PRT building?"

Armsmaster inclined his head toward the PRT troopers. "They brought a van. It's quite comfortable in the back, or so I'm told."

Janesha scrunched her face to one side. "Tell you what. You know that little park across the road from the building? The one with the little gazebo in the middle that's got the hidden cameras that you use to spy on people walking past?"

Armsmaster froze, ever so slightly. "I know of the park, yes," he said cautiously.

"Good. I'll wait for you there. Don't take long." Janesha stepped forward and vanished.

Taylor had to chuckle at the expression of confusion on the face of the woman in the suit. The rest of the PRT/Protectorate contingent probably looked just as confused, but she could only see Armsmaster's mouth. As one, they turned to look at her.

"Hey," she said, spreading her hands. "Janesha's gonna Janesha."

At that moment, she kind of regretted not being invited along for the interview with the PRT. If they were so befuddled by such a brief interaction with the celestial girl, it would be highly entertaining to watch how they dealt with Janesha being Janesha, full steam ahead ... or _failed_ to deal with her.

 _Oh, to be a fly on the wall._

* * *

End of Part Seven


	8. Chapter 8

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Eight: Confrontation with Authority

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Karen Buckeridge, author of Ties That Bind.]_

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

"Good day, Ms Hebert." Armsmaster stepped away from Taylor, then paused by the woman in the suit. Taylor didn't hear what he said, but the woman's eyes snapped around to her as a result. Then he turned back to Taylor. "Ms Parsons will be staying to talk to you about what's been going on, if that's all right?"

The question was obviously tacked on as an afterthought, but Taylor nodded. "I guess so," she agreed. She looked Ms Parsons over; middle-aged, brownish hair cut in a shoulder length bob, expressionless face. "I reserve my right to walk away at any time, though."

"That's fair," agreed Ms Parsons. Her voice wasn't quite motherly, but she met Taylor's eye squarely. "This is entirely a voluntary conversation. We just need to know what you want to tell us. Whatever you say is up to you."

Taylor stood up and looked around at the people in the rest of the cafeteria. Every other conversation had ceased, and the entire population of the cafeteria was watching and listening avidly. Even the serving ladies were standing with ladles poised over the containers of watery mashed potatoes. More than one phone was being held up, recording the conversation. "Yeah, but whatever we say, I think we need to find a more private location. Unless you really want to share it with everyone on PHO?"

"Privacy would definitely be preferable," Ms Parsons said dryly. "Perhaps we should go and ask your principal for the use of a conference room." Half-turning toward Armsmaster, she raised one eyebrow in a silent query.

"Principal Blackwell is currently in a meeting with Ms Bright," Armsmaster replied. Taylor wasn't sure who 'Ms Bright' was, but Ms Parsons didn't seem confused by the name. "Perhaps you should ask one of the teachers instead."

"Never mind," Taylor interrupted. "I know which classrooms are always empty. This isn't going to take long, is it?" She figured five minutes was all she'd need to pin back Ms Parson's ears about Emma's group in general and Sophia in particular. And of course, Janesha was likely to be giving them chapter and verse at the PRT building. Even her short association with the celestial teenager had taught Taylor that Janesha _loved_ sticking it to self-important mortals.

"That should be acceptable. Troopers Camden and Wilson will stay with you, and make sure you are not disturbed." Armsmaster nodded toward Ms Parsons, then turned and strode away. Both of the PRT troopers remained, looking to the business-suited woman for direction.

"Well, let's not waste time, shall we?" Ms Parsons dusted her hands off briskly. "Ms Hebert, you said you know where we can have some privacy?"

"Sure." Taylor already had a place in mind. It was a classroom that was being used mainly for storage these days. So long as nobody was actually making out or doing a drug deal in there, she was pretty sure there wouldn't be a hassle with using it. And even if there was, the troopers would make short work of any problems that arose, and prevent anyone from walking in on them thereafter.

As they left the cafeteria, a question occurred to Taylor. "So why two guards? I'm not exactly that dangerous, am I?" _She_ knew she was, of course, but that was nothing the PRT needed to know about. At the far end of the hallway, she saw Armsmaster just turning the corner, with two more PRT troopers marching in his wake. _Huh, they really came out in force._

"We couldn't be sure," Ms Parsons replied evasively. "The Director decided to err on the side of caution." Notably, she didn't explain what they couldn't be sure _about._ "Now where's this room?"

* * *

 **Kirsten Bright  
PRT Handler for Shadow Stalker**

* * *

"So … you're pulling Sophia Hess from Winslow?" Principal Blackwell's expression twitched slightly. Kirsten did not consider herself an expert on body language, but her best guess placed Blackwell's demeanour at somewhere between 'upset' and 'panicked'. "But … I did what you said. I worded the reports the way you advised me to."

"It's not my idea, believe me." Kirsten hadn't thought much of Blackwell's attitude when they first met and she still didn't like the woman, but they'd had a good thing going. "It's just … there's a situational crisis going on, and she's better off outside the school system until we can get to the bottom of it." Ninety percent of which was pure bullshit, but the few parts that Blackwell could actually challenge had the benefit of being true. Shadow Stalker losing her powers _was_ a potential crisis, and a depowered Stalker was better off outside Winslow than inside with the ABB and Empire—especially the Empire—recruits.

"Is it the locker? It's the locker, isn't it?" Blackwell's expression was the very picture of badly-hidden desperation. "Why couldn't you have kept her on a tighter leash?" The look she shot Kirsten was akin to that of a cornered rat.

"There's no proof she was ever involved in the locker incident, or any other criminal activity in Winslow," Kirsten reminded her. "Is there?" Her sharp gaze prodded Blackwell. "Just out of curiosity, how's the victim going?"

"No, Sophia Hess was not implicated in that incident." Blackwell tilted her head and frowned slightly. "The Hebert girl returned to school today, actually. She came into my office this morning with that cape friend of hers, asking for school supplies, of all things."

Kirsten's attention was immediately piqued. "And did you give them to her?" The principal of a school the size of Winslow, no matter how slack, had to have her own duties to perform. Surely supplying students with school supplies wasn't part of that. "And how _did_ you sidestep official attention so neatly?"

"Well, of course." Blackwell shrugged. "All before the first period bell, too." She seemed oddly proud of that assertion. "I managed to sidetrack the police with gang activity reports until the majority of the mess was cleaned up. They think it was a lot less problematic than it was. We were fortunate in that the girl came out fighting. I was able to produce evidence of the injuries she caused our janitorial staff when her father raised the possibility of a lawsuit. Mainly scratches and bruises, but that was enough to make him accept the settlement rather than risk a countersuit. Not that they would've followed through, but he didn't have to know that."

"Nicely done." Kirsten tilted her head in acknowledgement. Again, she was reminded of why she didn't like Blackwell. The woman was a weasel in a pantsuit, but she was a weasel whose goals had aligned well with Kirsten's up till now, so likes and dislikes were irrelevant. She'd done her bit to keep Sophia Hess off the official radar, and Kirsten appreciated that. Of course, with the sudden and inexplicable loss of Hess' powers, it seemed that events were derailing their careful preparations. Not that Blackwell was cleared to know about this.

"So …" Blackwell leaned forward slightly. "About the Wards remuneration. That's still going to be ongoing, right?" A twitch of her eyes betrayed heightened nerves.

 _And now we come to the crux of the matter._ Kirsten would have bet a significant amount of her savings that Blackwell had already budgeted—or even spent—the annual payout that Winslow got from the PRT for attending to Shadow Stalker's educational qualifications. Or at least the next six months' worth of it.

This was where it was more convenient that she didn't actually like Blackwell. "Well, actually … no." If she'd been feeling guilty about it, she may have looked away at this point, but she wasn't so she didn't. "We're suspending that for the moment. We will inform you of the situation once the way forward is clear."

Blackwell blinked rapidly. "But … but … _I did what you told me!"_ Her expression was now somewhere between accusing and pleading. She had the look of someone from under whom the rug has been abruptly pulled.

"I'm sorry." Kirsten wasn't, not really, except for any problems inherent in her own situation. "It's totally out of my hands. This is more of a courtesy on our part." Some small part of her was enjoying the sight of Blackwell squirming. _Maybe if_ ** _you'd_** _kept her on a tighter leash, none of this would've happened._ Because whoever's fault this all was, it certainly wasn't _her_ s.

"Do you have any idea when she might return?" It seemed that Blackwell was grasping at straws. Not that she blamed the woman; not knowing the facts of the case, it was easy to come up with wrong assumptions.

Kirsten stood up. "Assume for the moment that she won't be returning. Plan accordingly. That's the best I can give you." Her voice was crisp and businesslike as she did her best to conceal the schadenfreude she felt for Blackwell at that moment. Of course, her 'best' was not something Blackwell was likely to appreciate as such. But for Kirsten Bright, this was no longer her problem.

On the other hand, if Shadow Stalker was now indeed powerless, Kirsten's stint as her handler was over and done with. Gone was the cushy job that she'd so carefully maintained. She wasn't sure where Piggot would assign her next, but it was too much to hope for that she'd get another probationary Ward in short order. Still, so long as both she and Blackwell kept their heads and nothing of the true nature of Sophia Hess' less than savoury activities came to light, their only problems would involve adjusting to the new state of affairs. The people in Internal Affairs were reputed to have zero sense of humour and near-Thinker levels of perception where it came to sniffing out malfeasance, and Kirsten intended to never draw their attention.

"I see. Thank you." Blackwell stood up and shook Kirsten's hand. The gesture was sharp and perfunctory at best. "I appreciate you letting me know what's going on." From her tone, Kirsten could tell that she meant the exact opposite. But again, it wasn't really her problem now, was it?

Turning, she left Blackwell's office, closing the door behind her. She nodded to the secretary on the way out, then checked her messages. Apparently she now had to go and interview Emma Barnes and Madison Clements, Sophia Hess' friends of record. This was actually not a bad idea; if they had more of an idea of what had happened to Shadow Stalker, she could make better plans. And at the same time, she could reinforce the stricture to say not a word of the entire affair to anyone. This wouldn't be hard; nobody _wanted_ to go to juvenile detention, after all.

Of course, _finding_ those two could be a pain. Opening the PRT messaging app, she fired off a text asking if there were any other PRT personnel in the school, and did they have any idea of the location of Emma Barnes and Madison Clements. Just to make things absolutely clear, she included file photos of the pair.

For a Hail Mary pass, it panned out in spades. Barely a minute later, she got a ping back from one of the PRT's counsellors, Mary Parsons. **Just leaving. Saw them going into this classroom.** It even included a floor number and a door number. Kirsten knew the school layout fairly well, and for those parts of it she didn't know, she had a map on her phone. It would take her only a few minutes to get there. _Well,_ ** _something's_** _going right today._

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

Janesha arrived at the gazebo with her second step down from the celestial realm. As such, she looked out at the PRT building across the road, watching the people who came and went for a few seconds. In those seconds, she identified most of them as general staff, if their lame-ass surface thoughts were anything to go by. Which meant it got old really fast. She sat on the seat in the middle of the gazebo and braced her upper body on her elbows on either side with her ankles crossed out in front of her. That got a bit boring too.

After a little while, she began to wonder what the time was. Some people in Mystal wore a single golden bead of light attached to the cuff of their glove. This bead worked its way around the cuff, and its location represented where in the day Mystal sat. Even if Janesha was prone to wearing the timepiece, knowing what time it was in Mystal wouldn't help her.

She was about to send a mental command to one of the mortals to look at their timepieces (not all of them wore watches. In fact, it was usually only the older generation who seemed to) when she noticed an even older way of keeping time. A sundial had been placed unobtrusively to one side of the gazebo she sat in.

Getting up, she strolled over to examine it. After a basic examination, she decided that if it was accurate, she still had a good ten minutes before Armsmaster was due to arrive. _Well,_ she decided, lacing her fingers together and stretching her arms over her head, _if he's going to take that long, I might as well go and get something else to eat._ In Mystal, each meal consisted of several courses, so the thought of having half a plate of braised pork and truffles barely scratched the surface on her hunger. But where to go … where to go ….

And then she had it. If this was the same as her cousin's pet world, there was only one place to get the best pizza ever. And with that, she took another step and vanished.

A minute or so later, she returned with a deep sided pizza box and a two-litre bottle of Coca-Cola which she placed on the gazebo seat and sat down beside it. Mystal never did go in for the fizzy drinks of Earlafaol, but with her touch shifting, she didn't have to care. There was something about the metal stripping beverage that really connected with Janesha's demonic half.

By the time Armsmaster turned up at the park, Janesha was down to her second last piece of pizza and about a fifth of her Coke left. She lifted it to her lips, just as he dismounted from his motorcycle and made his way towards her. "Hey Armsmaster," she called cheerily, casting him a one-handed wave of acknowledgement. "Still on your high horse about eating on duty?" She nudged the box down the seat towards him. "I've got one piece left with your name on it, if you want it."

Armsmaster almost smiled. "I appreciate the offer but no thank you," he replied formally. "If it's all the same to you, shall we go inside? The Director is quite anxious to clear this matter up." By which he meant, the Director was pissed off as hell, and wanted _some_ kind of rational answer as to what was going on here. Based on Armsmaster's memories, Janesha wondered when the woman had last had her health checked. She wasn't in the best of shape to begin with, and that wasn't a good colour to go when shouting.

 _Oh, well. Not my monkeys, not my circus._ "Sure," she said, finishing up the slice she was eating. She then closed the box, placed the lid on her Coke and stood up with both in one hand. "I'll finish this during the interview. No sense wasting a great pizza."

She saw his helmet dip as he scanned the lid of the box. "Sforno," he said, reading the name out loud. "I don't recall that one. Where is it?"

Janesha let herself smile. "You should get out more often, Armsmaster. Then you'd recognise the name of the best pizza joint in the world." Unlike the countless establishments that made that claim so often it became cliché, this was the literal truth. Sforno had been voted the best pizza in Rome by Parlafood and its subsidiaries two years in a row. The fact that she'd gone over and taken the 'ready to serve' pizza and the two-litre coke for herself and left again without letting anyone know she was there was one of the many perks of being the daughter of the gods.

The PRT building was set up to look as impressive as _fuck_ to mortals, but Janesha had seen waaay better. Her cousins of Construction were responsible for the design of Pandess and Crohen, and those two cities were where the Courts of Life and Death resided. Still, she admired the decor as they went through to the elevator; for something that had been laboriously hand-constructed by mortals, it wasn't too bad at all.

The ride up in the elevator took an impressively short time. Janesha thought she detected shenanigans in the local physics field, possibly caused by celestial-granted abilities. When Armsmaster stepped out, she was right alongside him, making sure that he was not one finger-width ahead of her. He was her escort, certainly, but there was no way in _hell_ she was going to let it seem she was walking behind him on purpose. This was Earth Bet, not the Well of Hell.

Side by side, they marched down the corridor in silence. It seemed Armsmaster preferred it that way so Janesha, who ordinarily liked to chat, decided to humour him. Besides, she was certain there'd be ample opportunity for her to talk in the not too distant future.

PRT guards flanking the doorway to an otherwise unassuming conference room was what gave her the first clue. A sideways glance at Armsmaster's surface thoughts confirmed it. "In here, please," he said, a few seconds later.

"Sure." Janesha let Armsmaster open the door and usher her inside. Neither the guards nor the hero himself showed any anticipation of a surprise attack, so she strolled on in.

No attack eventuated; it was a very normal, very boring conference room with a long table and a large wall-screen at one end. Unfortunately, Janesha took one look at the wall-screen and frowned. _Well, this ain't gonna fly,_ she mentally declared, noticing the way they had positioned a comfortable-looking chair at the other end of the table facing the screen. At the very least, whoever's image appeared on that screen would be a dozen times bigger than normal and tower over her, implying they had the superior position. Not only that, but Mystallians didn't waste their breath on people who were too … "cautious" to meet them face to face. If someone didn't want to be present during a conversation, then that someone didn't get to **_be_** in the conversation, period.

She placed the coke and pizza on the table where she'd be sitting, then turned to Armsmaster and gestured at the screen. "Let me guess," she said with a sneer. "You think we're going to be having this conversation with your Director Piggot over that thing, right?" She didn't bother hiding the distaste in her voice.

The screen blinked to life, showing a high-definition view of Director Piggot. _"You are,"_ the Director affirmed, her voice emanating from hidden speakers. _"Do you have a problem with this?"_ Although Janesha couldn't mind-bend her, the attitude was plain; if Janesha had a problem, Piggot didn't actually much care.

 _Guess again, you arrogant shit._ Janesha mentally countered her opening statement first and foremost, but then realised the woman had been stupid enough to ask a rhetorical question. "Actually, since you asked so nicely, yeah I do." Janesha's tone was deliberately challenging as she walked the length of the table and placed her hand on the edge of the screen. "I don't speak to anyone if it's not face to face." She gestured to the armoured hero. "Armsmaster's here, so I'll talk to him." She moved on to the two PRT guards in the doorway. "Those two are here, so I'll talk to them. But I don't do conversations through screens like this. If you want to have the conversation Armsmaster says you're so chewing at the bit to have, you'd better turn the screen off and come down here. Otherwise, no dice."

The screen stayed lit up. _"That's unacceptable,"_ the Director said firmly. _"You are a new cape in the city with powerful capabilities and unknown allegiances. Protocol states_ — _"_

"Fuck your protocols," Janesha retorted, and turned the screen into an elaborate painting within a gold-leaf frame, portraying Thor being hit in the face with a snowball. "These are _my_ protocols, and they supersede yours by a billion to one." She took her hand off the painting's frame and looked over at Armsmaster. "As I said, I'll talk to you. I'll even talk to your Director face to face..." She thumbed at the screen over her shoulder. "…but that was never gonna work for me."

Armsmaster didn't seem to be listening. He pointed at the painting which had taken the place of the screen. "Janesha, I … that…" He then seemed to get his thoughts aligned, for he suddenly focused on her and said in a raised voice, "Janesha, that cost a hundred thousand dollars! I don't know how you do things where you come from, but here you don't just walk in as a guest and casually destroy your hosts' equipment!"

"I didn't destroy anything, you clown, and as soon as we're done here, I'll put it all back, just to show you there's no hard feelings. Here, I'll show you."

Janesha put her hand on the frame of the painting and changed it back again, making sure to get all the fiddly little electronic bits back exactly where they'd been before. As soon as she'd finished, it lit up again, revealing Director Piggot holding a phone to her ear.

 _"-sten to me carefully,"_ the Director said. _"I need you to_ — _"_ She paused, her eyes focusing on the screen once more. _"You! What did you do? No, not you."_

"One more time," Janesha said, cutting her off while holding up one finger to emphasise the point. "Speak to Armsmaster or come down here in person. You don't get to talk to me through a machine." Without waiting for an answer, Janesha turned the screen back into a painting. She then strolled down the length of the table, using one hand to swivel the chair around until it faced Armsmaster. Seating herself as regally as if she were Aunt Clarise herself, she flared her cape over the back of the chair, then crossed one leg over the other. In the back of her mind was the temptation to flick her boots up on to the table but decided for now to show a little bit of decorum. For now. "Well, I'm here. Since your director seems to have had a change of heart about talking to me, what would _you_ like to know?"

It seemed to take Armsmaster a few seconds to gather his thoughts. In the interim, she rummaged through his memories for any insights she'd missed about the visit by the PRT and Protectorate to Winslow. Interestingly enough, she'd only seen half the forces that had been sent; two more PRT guards had been waiting in the hallway, and Dauntless had been flying above the school to act as backup. Chosen, no doubt, because he could fly and strike at range.

Even four PRT troopers had seemed to be an odd number to her. An overabundance of force if she turned out to be friendly, and far too few if she was hostile. But then she stumbled on an interesting fact. Sophia had apparently claimed _Taylor_ was using mind-bending on _her_ (or 'Mastering' her, as they called it), so two of the guards had been there to subdue Taylor in the case of things going sideways. That was worth half an hour of internalisation so she could roll around on the ground, laughing at the sheer absurdity of the concept.

Armsmaster cleared his throat. "Janesha, what happened between you and Sophia Hess in the bathrooms at Winslow?"

"I went into the bathrooms," Janesha said bluntly. "And Sophia followed me in. She thought she could corner me and bully me into submission or something just as fucking brainless. To be honest, I don't particularly care what her thought processes were at the time. When she called me a little queef and told me to grovel and kiss the toe of her boot or else she would kick my ass, I got really mad and grabbed her."

"What happened next?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"I realised if I put her through the wall before she could phase through it, I'd probably kill her. So I let her go and went into the toilet stall and shut the door. She completely flipped out and started swearing and carrying on about me supposedly shutting the door in her face. The next thing I know, the door punched inward where the idiot tried to ram it, and she fell flat on her ass. Her two cohorts came in, so I came out, washed my hands and walked out. The end."

All of which was true. The removal of Sophia's powers had taken place on the celestial realm, which was in no way within the bathrooms at Winslow. Janesha was fully aware that she was being a smartass, but it was up to Armsmaster to ask the right questions.

The set of Armsmaster's lips told Janesha his cute little truth-telling device was reporting that she was not lying to him. Still, he tried again. "Did you use your powers to influence her to follow you into the bathrooms or hit her face on the toilet stall from the outside?"

"I didn't make her do shit, sunshine. If I had to guess, I'd say she followed me into the bathrooms because she figured I was a threat to her little dominance games over Taylor Hebert," Janesha said firmly. "You are aware of these, right? She and her two little friends have been responsible for all the shit that's happened to Taylor over the last eighteen months at school, including being locked in her own locker, just a couple of weeks ago." She looked at Armsmaster's pursed lips and rolled her eyes. "Oh, what a shocker. Stalker didn't report that to you lot either. What is wrong with you people? Criminals all over the world would be doing backflips of joy if the cops started waiting for them to report their own wrong doings."

"Nothing was reported to us," Armsmaster admitted after an awkward silence. "Are you certain she struck her face on the toilet door _after_ you had gone into the stall? She claims you made her do it."

 _I could have,_ Janesha mused inwardly. _But you don't need to know that_. "Pfft," she snorted, with another roll of her eyes. "You saw what I did to that tank. Do you think there'd be anything left of her head if I deliberately wanted to hurt her? I stopped, so that I wouldn't. You should thank me for showing greater restraint then you've obviously instilled in your Wards." She cocked an eyebrow at him and smiled venomously.

If Armsmaster's lips had been set before, now they were compressed so hard they were virtually invisible. "How long have you known the truth about Sophia Hess?" he asked, apparently trying for an oblique angle.

"That she's Shadow Stalker?" Janesha tossed the name out carelessly. "Since … some time yesterday, as I recall. Mind you, I only found out that she's a bitch and a bully last night, so I didn't really care until then."

"Who told you?" Armsmaster's voice was tense. "Outing someone's secret identity is a very serious situation, especially where it comes to a Ward. Was it your friend? Taylor Hebert?"

"Nah." Janesha flipped open the pizza box and took out the last slice. It was still warm, but she added a smidgen more heat, just to bring it up to optimal consuming status. "She had no clue about that. But once she told me all about the bullying that was going on at her expense, I started poking around. She told me how Sophia and her bitch friends were making her life Hell and how everyone was breaking their collective necks to cover it up. She didn't know the reason was because Stalker was one of yours. Like I said, I found out that little gem myself, after poking around for a bit. Nobody told me." She took a bite, savouring the sauces and spices that had been loaded on to the food.

Armsmaster took a step toward Janesha but restrained himself from looming over her. "Did you remove Shadow Stalker's powers?"

Janesha chewed and swallowed the bite of pizza, then looked directly at where she knew his eyes could be found under his visor. "She didn't deserve them anyway." Deciding that she'd given all the answer she needed, she took another bite of pizza. With her other hand, she popped the top off the bottle of Coke. All this talking was making her thirsty.

"That's not an answer." Armsmaster sounded irritated. Janesha was pretty sure that the Wards were a bunch of teenagers. She decided that Armsmaster must not interact with them very much if talking to her pissed him off so badly. "Shadow Stalker no longer has any powers. Is this your doing?"

"You're saying that like it's a bad thing." Janesha washed the pizza down with a mouthful of Coke, then leaned back in the chair and looked up at Armsmaster. "Instead of getting all bent out of shape about that, try this one on for size. If a villain punches out another villain and leaves him for the police, does that make him a hero, or still a villain?"

"A villain," Armsmaster replied, with a touch of reluctance. "But—"

"Not finished." Janesha raised a finger. "And if a villain is coerced by the hero to help him bring another villain to justice, does that make him a villain or a hero?"

"He's still a villain." Now Armsmaster sounded impatient. "But—"

Again Janesha overrode him. "How about if a villain is rescued from jail by a hero to solve a crime? Once it's over, should he go back to jail to finish his sentence?"

"Yes, but—"

"Last one." This time, Janesha had to raise her whole hand. "Suppose a person with powers commits crimes in their civilian identity while pretending to be a hero in their cape identity. Hero or villain?"

Armsmaster took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Villain, of course. Yes, I get your point. But simple schoolyard hazing—"

The last four words ignited a fury in Janesha's heart, one that propelled her to her feet so fast that Armsmaster took a step back. "Simple schoolyard hazing!" she bellowed, so loudly the newly formed artwork rattled against the wall. "Do you consider locking a girl in a locker filled with a month's worth of used women's sanitation products an act of SIMPLE _SCHOOLYARD HAZING?"_

Armsmaster's hands went up in a placating manner. "Calm down, Janesha. I didn't know …"

"And whose fucking fault is that?" Janesha waved an arm at the building all around them. "You give people like her probation, and then you don't even have the realm-damned decency to the rest of society to have them monitored properly. Stalker is a villain, and everything that happened to Taylor was because of you and the Protectorate and the PRT covering for that bullying bitch, and I said **_enough_**."

Realising how angry she'd become and how fragile everything around her was, Janesha took a step back, breathing heavily as she got her heart rate back to normal. Dust drifted down from the ceiling, and the remains of her Coke foamed gently out of the mouth of the bottle and slid down on to the table. Distantly, she thought she heard an alarm going off. She was going to have to watch that.

"So noted," Armsmaster said, sounding rather subdued. "You said Shadow Stalker worked with two other teenagers in the school. Would you mind telling me their names?"

"If you were doing your job properly, I wouldn't have to, would I?"

"I fully agree, but that isn't going to change the circumstances now. All we can do is move forward from here and try to fix things."

Janesha took several deep breaths, refusing to speak again until the red haze that had encroached on her vision had slipped back into nothing. "Fine," she said, with a slight bob of her head. "Emma Barnes and Madison Clements, with the direct aid and assistance of Sophia Hess. Your Ward. Your fault. Your mess."

"Can it be reversed?" asked Armsmaster. "Can you give Shadow Stalker her powers back?" He seemed to have gotten over the mild stunning effect of her shout.

"Can I?" Janesha considered the concept. First she'd have to take Sophia back to the celestial realm, then locate the crystalline outcrop embodying the shadow power, then figure out how to make it generate a rope back to Sophia … "Theoretically, I suppose I could, but in that skank's case, absolutely not! Why would I even try? Like I said, she doesn't deserve them. What she _does_ deserve is to go straight back to whatever punishment you guys had lined up for her before she got into the Wards."

Armsmaster nodded distractedly. "I'll take that under advisement. How, exactly, did you remove her powers?"

At this, Janesha chuckled cruelly. "Not in any way you're going to be able to replicate, I assure you. And yes, that's all the explanation you're going to get on the matter. I know you probably won't believe this, but that's more than most get in their whole lifetimes, so don't waste both our times pushing for more." She popped the last bit of the pizza slice in her mouth, but gave up on the Coke as a lost cause. "You got any questions that aren't about Shadow Stalker? Because I'm done talking about that bitch."

"I have one more about her," Armsmaster said, almost apologetically. "It's the last one, I promise." He even seemed to mean it.

Janesha decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Shoot." If it was a question she didn't want to answer, she could always tell him to shove it up his ass.

"Why her?" he asked. "Why Shadow Stalker? I happen to know you encountered at least three criminal parahumans yesterday, when the Merchants attacked. Why did you wait until today, and why did you target Shadow Stalker specifically?" It was obvious that he would have been much happier with any of the Merchant capes being her target. Or even happier if she hadn't removed _anyone's_ powers.

"Because _yesterday_ those ass-clowns didn't piss me off by hurting my friends and demanding I grovel to them." Just the memory of Sophia demanding that a Mystallian crawl at her feet had the teen shuddering and humming a psychotic tune as she strove to get her temper back under control. When she opened her eyes again, she breathed out deeply and skewered Armsmaster with a deadly look. "As you can see, that's what put it over the edge." _Even the gods don't expect Mystallians to grovel,_ she wanted to add, but kept to herself.

When he opened his mouth to ask more, Janesha waggled her finger between them. "Ah-ah. That's it. Nothing more about Shadow Stalker."

Armsmaster nodded. "All right, then. More general questions. What are your intentions to do with Brockton Bay?"

Which, in Janesha's view, was a fair question, all things considered. They were worried about how badly she could fuck up their little slice of 'paradise'. Of course, if they ever learned the full answer to that, their worry would probably turn into a global panic. She relaxed a little, happier to be on a more neutral subject. "Whatever I decide they are. Today, I was making sure Sophia and her cohorts got what was coming to them. Either this afternoon or tomorrow, depending on Danny's schedule, I'm going to clean up the boat graveyard for him and get it back into working order. After that …" she shrugged as if she hadn't thought that far ahead. Because, well, she hadn't.

"Cleaning up the boat graveyard," Armsmaster repeated.

Janesha shrugged again. "That's my plans so far. Anything else?"

"You know … projects of that size … require clearance …"

Janesha snorted. "Not a chance, pal. What I do, I do because I choose to do it. Because I want to do it. And nobody I might need to run it past is here to stop me."

Armsmaster's lips twisted, unimpressed. "What about your power removal ability? Can it be done on any cape, or do there need to be special circumstances involved?"

She snorted. "Hell yes, there needs to be special circumstances. If I don't want it to happen, it's not gonna happen." Before he could speak, she went on. "You and I both know the PRT would give their back teeth for a cape who can remove powers flawlessly without killing the parahuman in question. Especially if they could keep it quiet." She'd read as much in his surface thoughts. "But a couple of things you need to know about me. One: I'm not gonna be joining the Wards. And Two: I'm not for hire. You literally can't afford to pay me to do _anything_. And if I see someone else who desperately needs to find out what it's like to have no powers, they _are_ going to have that experience."

"Well, until you start using your power to neutralise the abilities of Protectorate-affiliated capes— _other_ Protectorate-affiliated capes," he amended in response to the way her right eyebrow rose sardonically, "we don't legally have a reason _or_ an excuse to prevent you from doing so. Though it's not beyond the bounds of possibility that they might attempt a civil suit against you for assault with a Trump power, loss of income and so forth. There are precedents in the system for such cases, and some of the people I suspect you might take exception to have quite a lot of money to spare ..." He trailed off. "But you aren't at all concerned about being sued, are you?"

Janesha grinned, letting her teeth lengthen and sharpen just enough to make Armsmaster feel a little uneasy in her presence. "If they want to send a lawyer against me, I'll bury him," she promised. "Figuratively, of course." She'd spent enough time with her father's side of the family that the idea of a mortal lawyer having any sort of edge over her was laughable. "And if they send a cape lawyer against me, I'll remove his powers _then_ bury him."

Armsmaster was obviously learning, given that he didn't contradict her version of how events would go. "As I said, we'd have no legal cause to intervene in cases like that. But if any other Protectorate affiliates catch your attention, I'd take it as a personal favour if you'd give me a heads-up and a chance to pull them into line using less ... _stringent_ means."

Oddly enough, he flinched just a few seconds later. Janesha saw his lips barely moving, as if he were counting silently in his head. Sliding back into his thoughts, she realised he was carrying on a subvocalised conversation with Director Piggot.

It seemed that Piggot was objecting to the entirely reasonable and rational request Armsmaster had made of Janesha. Terms like 'jurisdiction' and 'chain of command' and 'complete newcomer to the city' were sprinkled liberally throughout the Director's tirade. The problem was, Janesha couldn't offer a rebuttal without revealing that she was aware of both sides of the conversation.

Or rather, it would've been a problem if she allowed it to become one. "Tell Director Piggot that it's rude to talk about someone behind her back," she said as she stood up. "Also that if she wants to talk about jurisdiction, there's nobody in the country with more jurisdiction over this sort of shit than me. And that includes the Chief Director. If you think of any more questions, you know where to find me."

With that, she realm-stepped away from the PRT building, up into the celestial realm then back down to Winslow. Ignoring the sudden upsurge in noise that resulted from her reappearance—seriously, had these people never seen one of their capes teleport before?—she settled down to wait for Taylor.

About thirty seconds later, she remembered the wall-screen. Or rather, the fact that it was still an oil painting. "Shit!" she swore, snapping her fingers as she rose to her feet. Not that it was a huge problem—more an inconvenience. Two realm-steps later, she was back in the PRT conference room. "… good news," Armsmaster said before he noticed her. "Christ!" he blurted, once he had.

Janesha felt amusement mingled with mild irritation. She'd forgotten how much attention that jack-ass got on Earlafaol and (apparently) its variants. It seemed, the more he ignored the place, the more they invoked his name. Kind of sad, really.

She knew damn well that Armsmaster hadn't mistaken her for Yeshua, but decided to play along for shits and giggles anyway. "No," she drawled with a wave of her finger, as if to a young child. "Not Ye-shu-a. Ja-ne-sha." To her secret glee, she saw the armoured hero's lips tighten briefly. "We look nothing alike, man, even if our names do sound a bit the same."

Armsmaster blinked in bewilderment. "What?"

 _Wow, way to not even recognise the lord you just invoked. What a waste of a good joke._ With a roll of her eyes, she abandoned that topic. "Never mind." She thumbed at the portrait and added, "Forgot to fix that."

Turning, she put her hand on the frame of the painting. For a hasty composition, she thought it'd turned out pretty well. The look of shock on the God of Blunder's face as the snowball splattered across his forehead was definitely worth the effort. But now it had to go back to the way it had been. For a second time, she exerted her touch-shifting and reverted the painting to a wall-screen. Immediately Piggot's face filled the screen. The woman launched to her feet and began screaming words of her earlier tirade, to which Janesha sneered in response and muted the audio before the silly bitch said something she wouldn't live to regret. She turned to Armsmaster. "Anyway, that's all I was popping back in for." She raised her left hand and rolled her fingers in farewell. "Later, Armsmaster."

"Wait!" blurted Armsmaster. "Were you serious about tipping us off about corrupt capes?"

She paused mid-step. "That was your request, not mine."

He patted the air between them. "Okay. Fair enough. Could I get your word that if any Protectorate affiliated capes make their way into the crosshairs of your power-removal, that you'll give me the chance to deal with them first … our way?"

She turned to face him fully. "Depends," she replied. "Were you serious about granting me a boon if I did?"

When given the chance to retract a boon offering, most usually did. Boons were one of the few things that could not be reneged upon once the deal was in place, even if that deal was between gods. Whatever the person who was owed the boon wanted, the other had no choice but to comply with; even a first-born child for a blood sacrifice.

Which was why Janesha almost fell over when Armsmaster nodded immediately. "Well, yes. I'm definitely serious about that. I'd much rather give someone the chance to come clean and maybe get back on the straight and narrow than just unilaterally take away their powers."

She gave him a very serious nod. "Very well. You have yourself a deal, Armsmaster. See you around." She took a step forward and vanished into the celestial realm. This time around, when she reappeared in the Winslow cafeteria, there was much less fuss about it. _Good. They can learn._

Taylor still wasn't back, so to pass the time (and because it amused her) she started going through the memories of everyone she could see, one at a time. Every time she found a memory of Emma Barnes, she watered it down. She couldn't make them _dislike_ Emma—that wasn't her celestial gift—but she could definitely dull their memories of the redhead until she was a barely remembered acquaintance.

 _Let's see her get them to gang up on anyone_ ** _now_** _._

* * *

 **Armsmaster  
A Few Moments Earlier**

* * *

"Also that if she wants to talk about jurisdiction, there's nobody in the country with more jurisdiction over this sort of shit than me. And that includes the Chief Director. If you think of any more questions, you know where to find me." And with that, Janesha simply stepped forward and vanished, just as she had in the school cafeteria.

 _"What just happened?"_

Colin looked around the conference room. Apart from him and the guards, it was empty of people. Just to make sure, he leaned over carefully and scanned the underside of the table. She wasn't under there, either. The doors were firmly closed. He sighed. "It appears she used her Mover ability and teleported away. Possibly back to Winslow, but I have no immediate way to verify that."

 _"God damn it. I hate it when they do that. Did she repair the screen? It's still not showing up on my system."_

"No, she didn't," Colin admitted. It was hard for him to say, because he had a certain amount of fellow-feeling for the flamboyant young cape, and he'd expected better of her.

 _"Typical,"_ she muttered, leaving him to wonder if she'd meant him to hear her comment. _"As soon as things stop going the way they like, they skip out."_

As Colin didn't recall any time when a cape had teleported away from Piggot (or anyone else for that matter) to escape a tongue-lashing, he decided she meant using their powers to avoid a losing confrontation in general. "It can be annoying, yes," he agreed. "The next question is, how do we move forward from here, knowing what we do about her?"

There was a pause at the other end. _"She's young and arrogant and apparently quite powerful. And she either doesn't know or doesn't care that once news gets out about a power remover, all hell will break loose."_ Piggot took a deep breath. _"We have to avoid that at all costs."_

"There is one bit of good news," he said, then jumped as Janesha reappeared in the room. "Christ!"

The girl tutted and waved her finger at him. "No, not Ye-shu-a. Ja-ne-sha." She sounded the names out slowly, as if to an idiot. "We look nothing alike, man, even if our names do sound a bit the same."

Confused, Colin blinked. "What?"

Janesha huffed and rolled her eyes. "Never mind." She flicked her thumb towards the oil painting which Colin deduced was a rendition of someone else who had annoyed the teenager at some point, if the childish snowball to the face was anything to go by. "Forgot to fix that." The girl put her hand on the frame of the painting and seemed to concentrate. Within seconds, it had become the wall-screen once more, complete with Director Piggot having a coronary. The ranting only lasted a second or two before the room fell into deathly silence. The same could not be said for his helmet … unfortunately. "Anyway, that's all I was popping back in for. Later, Armsmaster."

"Wait!" blurted Colin, not wanting to lose this one opportunity to get her at least partially on side with the Protectorate. "Were you serious about tipping us off about corrupt capes?" If she could actually do what she said, it would be a game-changer for the PRT and Protectorate both.

At least Janesha paused and was still in the room. "That was your request, not mine."

Knowing he had to move fast, Colin patted the air to placate her. After all, it had worked well enough the last time. "Okay. Fair enough. Could I get your word that if any Protectorate affiliated capes make their way into the crosshairs of your power-removal, that you'll give me the chance to deal with them first … our way?"

She turned to face him fully. "Depends," she replied, looking thoughtful. "Were you serious about granting me a boon if I did?"

He took all of two seconds to consider that question. While her wording was a little archaic, he _had_ no problem with owing her a favour.

"Well, yes. I'm definitely serious about that. I'd much rather give someone the chance to come clean and maybe get back on the straight and narrow than just unilaterally take away their powers." And of course, catching corrupt superheroes couldn't hurt his standing in the Protectorate. That incentive alone was enough to agree to any favour he might end up owing the girl.

Her eyebrows went up in surprise, but then she smiled and dipped her head towards him in a very somber manner. "Very well. You have yourself a deal, Armsmaster. See you around." And before he could say anything else, she took a step towards him and vanished once more.

 _"-ou hear me? Armsmaster!"_ Director Piggot's voice suddenly cut across the room.

Colin turned toward the screen. "I can hear you now, yes. How much of that did you catch?"

 _"All of it."_ Piggot sounded severely aggravated. _"What did I tell you about making unofficial arrangements with her? You have no idea whether she'll even come through with any of that."_

Personally, he thought she was going overboard with the caution. "It's not like I'm going to need to bring anything to the table before she tips us off again. And if she tries to get me to do something illegal—which I _highly_ doubt, by the way—I can simply tell her that as a law enforcement official, I can't do that. I mean, it's just a favour. Capes owe each other all the time. It's not like I signed my name in blood or something."

 _"Hmm."_ While Piggot didn't exactly look satisfied with that, the sucking-on-a-lemon expression eased off somewhat. _"I still don't think it was a wise move. But done is done. What do you think the chances of a gang getting her on side are likely to be?"_

Colin rubbed his chin in thought. "Well, she indicated that she can't be bribed or hired, which means the gangs can't simply throw money at her until she joins their side. And with the scope of the powers she's exhibited, coercing her to join is likely to be a no-show."

 _"Or a disaster of unmitigated proportions, if a fight breaks out and she's too stubborn to just retreat. Or worse, she decides that the aims of any of the gangs are what she believes, too."_

"I can't see her joining a gang," he said twisting his lips to one side. "From what I've seen of her, she wouldn't accept orders from anyone she didn't see as a superior, and she sees damn few people as being superior to her. Add in whatever Thinker power she used to overhear our conversation, and it's doubtful they'd be able to pull the wool over her eyes in any meaningful way." He paused, wondering if Janesha had 'overheard' what they'd been saying just as she showed up this time, and if this was why she'd bailed so quickly.

 _"There may be something in what you say,"_ the Director conceded. _"But it still leaves the possibility that she might join a gang with the intent of taking over, and the leadership objecting strongly. That's got a good chance of killing innocents, especially if she can't use her power nullification in a combat scenario."_

"I somehow doubt that she'd even be considered for membership in any of the current gangs," Colin mused. "The Empire and the ABB are right out, for obvious reasons. The leadership of the Merchants is currently in custody. And according to her she has no need for money, so Faultline's Crew is out as well."

 _"Unless, of course, she's in it for the thrills,"_ warned Piggot. _"She shows more than one sign of it."_

"Only superficially," Colin argued. "Yes, she refuses to back down over anything. Yes, she does everything as flashily as possible, up to and including wearing her costume when doing absolutely mundane things. But I get the impression that she simply doesn't believe she should restrain herself. She's absolutely convinced of her own capability, and she doesn't see the need to take a step back. In that, she actually reminds me a lot of Glory Girl."

 _"Who is, might I remind you, not the best role model any cape could aspire to. I'm fully aware of the nickname she carries in certain quarters."_ The Director's voice was dry.

"I don't think anyone's unaware of it except possibly Glory Girl herself," Colin noted. 'Collateral Damage Barbie' was not a name anyone would _want_ to acquire, but there it was. "However, there are certain differences between the way Glory Girl operates and how Janesha does things. Janesha came close to killing Mush yesterday, but that was due to a pure misunderstanding over the nature of Mush's powers. If you'd seen the way she juggled that tank and dropped Skidmark more or less into my lap, you'd be less worried about her wrecking half the city by accident."

 _"Well, unfortunately, I'm unable to view that particular footage,"_ Piggot replied sharply. _"The recording chip died, remember? However, per your verbal report, she does seem to use her powers with more precision than the Dallon girl. Tell me, what impressions have you made of her intentions?"_

This was something Colin had been thinking about very seriously. "I've never caught her in a lie. My software says exactly the same thing. So when she says she's going to clear the Boat Graveyard, I tend to believe her."

Piggot's expression seemed to get even sourer at that. He wasn't sure if it was at the potential of the teenage cape being able to carry out her boast, or _not_ being able to carry it out. _"We'll see."_

Whichever way it came out, Colin decided, the next few days were likely to be interesting.

* * *

 _[Afternote: Please be aware that the poor opinion held by Mystallians toward the denizens of Heaven is not shared by the author and beta-reader of this fic. It's purely a Mystallian thing.]_

* * *

End of Part Eight


	9. Chapter 9

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Nine: Surgical Info-Strike

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Karen Buckeridge, author of_ _ **Ties That Bind**_ _, found on Amazon, Goodreads and Smashwords.]_

* * *

The classroom was a little way down the corridor. Taylor walked ahead while Ms Parsons followed her, flanked by the PRT troopers. The few students they encountered gave them a wide berth; this was unsurprising, as the troopers didn't look as though they gave a fuck, and that was _without_ being able to see their faces.

At the same time, she spread her power out, taking control of all the bugs that were naturally present in the school. Bug senses were crap, but she was able to move flies across to where she recalled Emma and Madison had been sitting. More bugs headed for Principal Blackwell's office. It wasn't that she thought the other PRT woman—Ms Bright, apparently—would do anything untoward, but she had a low opinion of the trustworthiness of basically all authority figures right now. She couldn't really listen in on the conversation, but follow them? That, she could do.

"Okay, here it is." Reaching the door, she turned the handle. It refused to budge. She could've broken it with ease—being super-strong was something she decided she could definitely get used to—but she didn't want to out herself quite so blatantly. Besides, there was no need. With the heel of her other hand, she smacked the door just above the lock, and it jarred free. She pushed the door open with just the slightest hint of a self-satisfied smirk. "Voila."

Ms Parsons spoke quietly to the troopers, who took up positions outside the door. Then she followed Taylor into the room, which was half-full of stacked desks and chairs, most of them damaged in some way. "That was neatly managed," she observed blandly. "You've done this often?" There was no censure or judgement in her tone; it sounded more as though she was trying to get a read on Taylor.

"Hardly." Taylor chuckled, then wandered over to one of the few desks sitting loose in the room—half the lid was missing, which explained its presence—and perched her butt atop it. "This place gets mainly used for make-out sessions and getting high, things I'm not exactly in the habit of doing. Everyone knows how to open the door. I've just found it handy to hide in here from time to time." She tried and failed to keep the bitterness from her voice. "They've never found me in here because despite all the rumours they spread about me, they don't _actually_ believe I'm a slut or a junkie. But I can't use this as a regular hiding place because of the people who _do_ want to shoot up or get close and personal with each other. I'd rather not be around in either situation."

"Hiding?" Ms Parsons found a chair that had its back missing, and carried it over to place in front of Taylor. Seated like that, she was forced to look up at Taylor, ceding a lot of the adult authority she'd brought into the room with her. This didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. "From whom, and why? Who's been spreading rumours about you?"

Taylor snorted and shook her head. "Don't even try that shit with me." Part of her marvelled that she could so easily backchat a member of the PRT. _Janesha's giving me bad habits. Or maybe good ones._ "You know damn well who I'm talking about. It's why you came to Winslow. Shadow Stalker's been tormenting the crap out of me in her civilian identity ever since she came to Winslow last year, aided and abetted by her friends. So when Janesha shows up and bothers to do a damn thing about it, what do you idiots do? You go after her, not after the actual perpetrators." She shook her head in mock disbelief. "Jeez, it's like you want to cover up the whole thing."

Ms Parson's mouth twisted, as though she'd bitten into an orange and found it was a lemon. "I assure you, I have no intention of covering anything up. I just want to find out what happened to Shadow Stalker. Whatever you can tell me to clear things up will help a great deal."

Taylor was about to jump on how they only seemed to be concerned about what had happened to Shadow Stalker and not the things she'd done to earn it, when something else occurred to her. The way the woman spoke of the supposed hero, Taylor couldn't tell if she knew of Stalker's secret identity or not. Then again, even if she did, she'd hardly start the conversation with, 'Okay, how much do you know about Sophia Hess, because keeping Shadow Stalker's secret identity is of the utmost importance to us'. Taylor had to learn the ground rules before she opened her mouth about the specifics. "Before we start getting all chummy, how much do you actually know about Shadow Stalker?"

The sour expression did not go away. "I am not intimately knowledgeable on Shadow Stalker. My job is to learn what _you_ know."

And that was when Taylor's self-preservation instincts kicked in. Either Ms Parsons knew who Shadow Stalker was and was lying about it, or she genuinely didn't have a freakin' clue. The latter made no sense. Why in the world would the PRT send someone in with no knowledge of the players involved, to interview her about what a cape does in their down time unmasked … unless …

Taylor paused and let out a silent whistle. Could the PRT really be that underhanded? Time to find out. "If I asked you a hypothetical question, could I get a hypothetical answer?"

Ms Parsons looked at her, puzzled. "If I can supply one, certainly." Her expression quite plainly asked _what's this all about?_

"Okay, then." Taylor thought carefully about her question. "Hypothetically, if a person discovered the identity of a Ward, then revealed it to someone who wasn't supposed to know it, how much trouble would they get into?"

"Legally, quite a bit." Ms Parsons frowned. "A lot more if that Ward came to harm through being outed in that fashion, but just doing it is the equivalent of revealing the identity of a government agent in enemy territory. Why do you … oh." The way the revelation lit up her face, Taylor knew she had her answer. Sneaky, sneaky bastards. "Oh, I see," Ms Parsons said, raising her left hand to her lips thoughtfully.

 _So do I._ Taylor nodded. "That's what I thought." It was a subtle trap. Ms Parsons wasn't cleared for Shadow Stalker's secret identity, which meant she wasn't supposed to know it. If Taylor had blurted it out, she would've been technically liable for outing Shadow Stalker, and the PRT would then have a legal hold over her. An argument could've been made for entrapment had that been the case, (after all, how was Taylor supposed to give details of what Sophia had done out of costume without naming her to the very organisation responsible for her) but the legal tidal wave the PRT could throw at her and her father would bury them deeper than Atlantis. Not that Janesha couldn't deal with this, but Taylor was determined to not be forever having to ask her celestial friend to fix problems for her.

Ms Parsons tilted her head to one side slightly. "So … _do_ you know Shadow Stalker's secret identity? What you said just now sounded as though you did." Her tone never changed, but Taylor reminded herself that even though the woman probably hadn't known she was being used as a dupe, she was still a serving member of the PRT.

"Sure, I do … _now_." Taylor kept her tone light and her eye contact with Ms Parsons direct. "I only found out today. In any case, it's not like she's got the Shadow Stalker identity to go back to."

That seemed to get all of Ms Parsons' attention. The woman sat up straighter, her eyes hungry for information. "What do you mean by that, Taylor?" she asked, attempting to keep her tone casual. It might have worked too, if Taylor hadn't received so much lip service in the last year from every man, woman, child and damned dog that crossed her path.

Determined to stay on her agenda, rather than Ms Parsons', Taylor redirected the conversation slightly. "She used her Ward status to get away with everything and thought this was the natural order of things. That was, until she ran into someone who looked at her bullying ways and decided to do something about them."

Ms Parson's eyes narrowed. "You realise that if anyone else heard you say that, all they'd have to do is narrow down the list of students to the one who gets away with any wrongdoing and you'll have outed her?"

Knowing this was exactly what she'd already worked out as far as their end-game was concerned, Taylor laughed in her face. It wasn't a pretty laugh. "Along with half a dozen of her best friends, you mean?" She shook her head. "I've been called names, shoved, tripped down stairs, had my locker broken into no less than four times, had my books stolen, my personal property ruined, and that's not even counting the personal attacks that I've gotten in my school email accounts. _Or_ the time I was locked _in_ my locker. Not all of this was specifically Shadow Stalker, but she no doubt knew and approved. And nobody did a damned thing about it."

"I have trouble believing this of a Ward," Ms Parsons stated. "But assuming it's true, everyone gets called names at school. Everyone gets shoved. Everyone gets tripped. Are you sure this is something personal to you, and not teenagers being teenagers?"

Anger erupted in Taylor's gut. "Oh, you fucking cow," she snarled, unable to believe she'd been so stupid as to think this woman would be any different from everyone else just because she happened to work for the PRT. Both infuriated and disgusted in equal measure with the entire affair, Taylor jumped down from the desk and stormed towards the door. "You know what? Fuck you and the high horse you fucking rode in on, and fuck the PRT that's spent the last four months protecting that bitch!" Her mother would've been rolling over in her grave if she heard so much profanity spewing from her lips, but enough was enough! Maybe that was more of Janesha's influence. Her friend certainly had no problem with profanity. "I'm done!"

"Wait!" Ms Parsons' hand snagged Taylor by the upper arm, and it took everything Taylor had not to remove it … by strictly inhuman force.

Before anyone could say another word, there was a light knock at the door and one of the PRT soldiers poked his head in. "Is everything alright, Ms Parsons?" he asked after a sweeping movement of his helmet indicated he'd taken in the scene and was apparently satisfied that Ms Parsons had Taylor by the arm and not the other way around.

Ms Parsons released Taylor and smiled at the guard. "Yes, thank you officer. Miss Hebert and I just had a … minor misunderstanding." She stepped around in front of Taylor and looked down at her imploringly. "If I give you my word, no more judgements on my part, could we try that again? Please? I really do want to hear what you have to say."

Taylor glared at the woman, then slid her filthy look to the PRT officer now standing in the doorway behind her. Then back at the woman again. Everything about her demeanour said she genuinely meant what she said. "One more try," Taylor conceded, holding up the pointer finger of her left hand. "But you call me a liar again after everything I've been through, and we're going to have a serious problem."

The guard stiffened at the blatant threat, but Ms Parsons' hand went out and she waved the man away. "It's alright, officer. I have this."

"We'll be right outside if you need us," he replied briskly, then closed the door behind him.

"So, from what you've said, Shadow Stalker at the very least participated in the destruction of your belongings and caused you physical harm," she said, both to prove she'd been listening and to try and distract Taylor from the way her hand had 'magically' found its way to her shoulder and was in the process of guiding her back to where they'd been sitting.

Neither was lost on Taylor.

"Her last trick put me in hospital for a week," Taylor agreed, sliding her butt across the broken desk once more. "That was the locker."

Ms Parsons straightened where she stood, becoming all business. "And you know it was Shadow Stalker?"

Taylor nodded with absolute conviction. "I don't know how much you know about the school lockers, but they're about my height and width. When I opened my locker, it was over half-full of used sanitation products. It stank so badly that I started puking, right before I was pushed into the locker and the door was locked behind me. I was stuck like that for an hour and a half before someone cared enough to let me out. I could have _died_ in there. I honestly thought I was going to."

Ms Parsons' eyes widened in horror and her hand covered her mouth. "Oh, my. That's awful, Taylor. I'm so sorry."

Okay … this was more how Taylor thought the PRT should be reacting. How _any_ human being should be reacting … if they weren't determined to defend the party line against all comers.

"So, why do you think Shadow Stalker had anything to do with this terrible incident?"

And there went the pin to her balloon of hope.

Ms Parson's must have seen the look on her face, because her hand immediately reached out and encompassed Taylor's, squeezing it placatingly. "Easy, dear. You are the only one that has this information. I don't. You need to tell me what you know, so that I can push this further up the chain of command. We can't act on guesswork alone. If you think Shadow Stalker is behind this, I'm not discrediting you. I just need to know how you came to this conclusion, so that we can get there as well."

Taylor released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. "Okay. Fine. The reason why I _know_ Shadow Stalker is up to her backside in this, is because somebody got all those used sanitation products into my locker without having them fall out in the meantime. Whoever did that either had to phase them in through the shut door, or teleport them in outright."

"I can follow that logic of that reasoning." Ms Parsons nodded as she spoke and squeezed her hand again. "Now, I'm about to say something that you won't want to hear, but I need you to tell me why we should discredit my alternate theory."

Taylor's lips pinched together. "Okay," she said, cautiously.

"Your new friend … Janesha. Didn't we just see her teleport out of the lunchroom?"

Taylor hissed and went to pull away, but Ms Parsons held on to her hand.

"Just tell me why it can't be her."

Taylor eyed the woman. Once she got over her initial outrage, she could see Ms Parsons was sticking to her word of not casting judgement, and, from a neutral perspective, it was a semi-realistic question. "The reason it _can't_ be her…" —she sneered the words— "…is because she only turned up yesterday. Before yesterday, I'd never even heard of Janesha of Mystal. This attack happened two weeks ago. Janesha may have the power to do it, but she wasn't here. She made friends with me after the incident."

Ms Parsons released her hand and held up both pointer fingers. "I'm going to continue playing Devil's advocate here," she said, giving Taylor another warning that whatever came next wouldn't be pleasant.

Taylor was so glad Janesha wasn't here to hear her say that. If her cousin's kids had the power to be the anti-Christs on some other 'Earth', chances were that Janesha was on a first name basis with the real Devil's advocate. And it was probably something stupidly mundane like 'Bob' or 'John'. She fought to keep her expression neutral, and could tell from the look on Ms Parsons' face that she'd only partially succeeded.

"What's to stop Janesha from having done it two weeks ago, and befriended you now to have a second run at you?"

"Yeahhh." Taylor laid the sarcasm on with a trowel. "So Janesha comes to Winslow two weeks ago, nobody notices her _or_ Cloudstrike, she shoves me in my locker, then sneaks away, lies low until now … and comes back just so she can make me feel better about myself, and have an excuse to de-power Shadow Stalker?" She shook her head. "If she was gonna do it, she would've done it back then. And _without_ any sneaking around. That girl doesn't know the meaning of the word 'discreet'. In fact, I think it's a Mystallian swear word."

Ms Parsons chuckled drily. "I do see your point there."

"And here's another thing," Taylor went on. "I saw everyone who was standing around my locker just before I was shoved in. Shadow Stalker was there, along with her friends. Janesha wasn't. If there's one thing that's dependable about Shadow Stalker, it's that she loves getting physical. Pushes, shoves, trips, whatever. If she didn't get to be the one to shove me in the locker, whoever _did_ do it would've been in the one next door, because Shadow Stalker would've put them there for interfering with her fun."

"I see." Ms Parsons nodded to acknowledge Taylor's words. "All right, so once you found out Shadow Stalker's secret identity, what was your reaction?"

Taylor rolled her eyes. "What do you expect? It pissed me off. To find out that someone who's supposed to be a superhero, a protector of people, was getting her jollies pushing me around to make herself feel big and tough … I wanted to punch her in the face, so bad."

"Did you do anything about it?" Ms Parsons' voice was entirely reasonable. "I mean, I'd understand if you did. Anyone would."

"Well, no. How could I?" Taylor shrugged. "I haven't seen her since before I got filled in on that little fact. And to be honest, I only found out _after_ she lost her powers, so it wouldn't have been fair." A positively evil grin spread across her face at the reminder. "Fuck, I wish I could be there when she realises that she's never getting 'em back, ever." _I might ask Janesha for a favour, sometime soon …_

"That's not very nice," chided Ms Parsons. "You shouldn't take pleasure in someone else's misfortune."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Taylor's anger found its voice again. "After the pleasure that psycho bitch took in crafting _my_ misfortune?"

Ms Parsons held a hand and dipped her head slightly in acknowledgement. "So, do you know _how_ she lost her powers?"

Taylor shrugged, still more than a little irritated with Ms Parsons. "Probably because she pissed off Janesha. I have no idea of the _mechanics_ of it, but Janesha made it sound pretty easy. For her, anyway. I'd be friggin' _amazed_ if anyone else figured out how to do it."

"And you say this loss is permanent?" Ms Parsons pursed her lips. "This is a serious situation if that's the case. No matter what crimes Shadow Stalker has or has not committed, using Trump abilities on her like this without any sort of trial or representation is—"

"Okay, let me stop you there," Taylor interrupted. "There's a few things you're dead wrong about. First off, Janesha didn't use Trump powers. She doesn't have any powers at all. That's why she's not a cape per se. She just _took Shadow Stalker's powers away_. Like you or I would take away a stick from a naughty kid to stop him from hitting other kids, and for much the same reason. Second, Janesha doesn't consider the courts or even law enforcement to be worth her time to check in with, let alone let them dictate the way she does shit. Because let's face it, they aren't. She saw the situation, decided on a solution and implemented it within twenty-four hours, after _your organisation_ dropped the ball on it for the last few months. Shadow Stalker's never going to use her powers to hurt anyone ever again. _Also,_ now that she's powerless, she's useless to the PRT, so she can now be punished for the crimes which she committed before and after joining the Wards. You don't have to coddle that fucking sociopath anymore, just because the higher-ups decided she's slightly more use to you in the Wards than in a cell. Win-win." She gave Ms Parsons an artificially bright smile.

With a certain amount of interest, she noted through her bugs that Emma and Madison were getting up and oh-so-casually wandering into the corridor that led to the classroom she and Ms Parsons were talking in. Ms Bright and Principal Blackwell were still discussing matters—quite vigorously, it seemed. She couldn't make out words, but volume was something she could easily pick up.

The PRT woman sighed and rubbed her index finger and thumb over her forehead. "There are so many things wrong with that statement, I don't know where to begin." Belying her words, she kept talking. "The only known way to remove powers is via other powers, and the only person who could permanently remove them also killed the victim." Taylor didn't have to be reminded; the terrifying cape known as Glaistig Uaine was the only person to have gone into the Birdcage _of her own accord._

"The only _known_ way," Taylor pointed out. "Test Shadow Stalker every way you know how. Janesha said she removed that bitch's powers permanently, and I have faith in her." _To mean what she says,_ she amended silently. _Not as a goddess._ "She _also_ says she's not a cape, and I believe that too." _Because I know what she really is._

"Well, be that as it may, your friend has drawn the attention of the PRT and the Protectorate," Ms Parsons pointed out. "And as powerful as she undoubtedly is— _however_ she says she came by that power—she _is_ obliged to obey the law. I'm just giving you fair warning that if she keeps on the way she is, somebody at some point is going to step up to bring her to account. The more toes she steps on, the more powerful that somebody is going to be. Worse, if it's a villain, they might not stop at just beating her down. Do _you_ want to see that happen to her?" The look of concern on her face might even have been genuine.

Taylor snorted. "If a villain comes after Janesha, all I'm gonna want is fair warning so I can get some popcorn ready. I missed her last supervillain curbstomp, and she owes me one."

The look on Ms Parsons' face was akin to pain. "No," she said with an actual wince. "You don't understand. There's always someone more powerful. She doesn't _want_ to draw that sort of attention to herself."

"Actually, you're about one-quarter right," Taylor said judiciously. "She doesn't really give a shit about drawing attention. I mean, she's not going all-out to get it, but she's not going to back down from the spotlight. And I guess you're right about there always being someone more powerful. That person's name is Janesha of Mystal."

"Have it your way." The look on Ms Parsons' face told Taylor that the woman thought she was being an idiot. Taylor figured fair was fair; she thought Ms Parsons was being an idiot, too. The woman's next question got her attention, though. "What can you tell me about Janesha of Mystal? What's Mystal, anyway? Her team name?"

Taylor rolled her tongue inside her cheek to stop herself from smirking. "Something … like that," she conceded. A pantheon was technically a 'team', wasn't it? "Janesha is … Janesha. She showed up yesterday on Cloudstrike. Met Dad, captured the Merchants for Armsmaster, and decided to fix a few problems. Congratulations, Shadow Stalker's one of those problems she fixed."

Ironically enough, if the PRT troopers had not been standing outside the door, Emma and Madison probably wouldn't have realised where she was. But Taylor saw them stop and duck back, which made it a dead giveaway. The motions of the bugs she had on them indicated that they were leaning around the corner to peek at the soldiers. Not for the first time, she wished she could interpret what the bugs heard as legitimate sounds, but all she heard was sibilant murmurs. Emma and Madison stayed where they were.

"But you don't know exactly how, or even whether she's likely to do it again? Or why she's in Brockton Bay?" Ms Parsons was still talking, but she seemed to be grasping at straws now.

Taylor decided to let her inner smartass out for a spin. "To answer your questions in order: no, only if they piss her off, and because she wants to be here."

"And do you have any idea what she's going to be doing now that she's here?"

"Well …" Taylor shrugged. "This afternoon, she's going to be clearing up the Boat Graveyard for Dad. Apart from that, she's got no real plans. She's a one-day-at-a-time sort of person, you know?"

That definitely shocked Ms Parsons. "The Boat Graveyard? Clearing it up? You're serious?"

Taylor spread her hands. "You asked." _Always someone more powerful, my ass._

Ms Parsons seemed to come to a conclusion. "I see. Well, thank you for your assistance. Was there anything else you'd like to tell me before I go?"

Taylor was starting to get a little bored with the shifts back and forth between ass-covering and honest investigation. Also, Ms Bright seemed to have wound up her discussion with Principal Blackwell, and was leaving her office. _Now, I wonder where she's going?_ "Not really," she said out loud. It wasn't as though the PRT could really do anything about Emma or Madison, after all.

"Well, alright then." Ms Parsons headed for the door. "If you think if anything else, come to the PRT building and ask for me by name." She opened the door, then paused. "And please tell your friend to be careful."

"Sure, I'll do that," Taylor agreed, but the door was already closing behind Ms Parsons. "Or I would, if I thought it'd matter in the slightest," she concluded to herself.

She 'watched' Ms Parsons walk away with the two soldiers following her. At the same time, Emma and Madison darted down the corridor, toward the door of the room she was in. Across the school, Ms Bright did something with her phone. Emma reached the room and wrenched the door open, crowding in with Madison hot on her heels. Taylor barely took notice of this because a moment later, Ms Parsons pulled her phone out and fiddled with it. _Hmmm … what's going on here?_

"Okay, Taylor, out with it." Emma marched across the room and stood right in front of her. "I want to know what kind of lies you were spinning to that woman."

Taylor smiled predatorily. All of a sudden, Emma was no longer so scary. Sophia had been utterly neutralised, and she herself was vastly more capable than she ever had been before. The two girls had no idea how badly outmatched they'd be in any physical contest. She knew how easily she'd be able to leave the room if she saw fit; hell, she could go out through the _wall_ if she really wanted to. "Lies? No, Emma, you're projecting yet again. I told no lies. Everything I said to her was the absolute truth."

"As if a weakling like you could bear to face the truth about anything," sneered Emma. "We all know you lie. The school administration knows it, and the PRT will know it, as soon as I show up with my father and we find out what rumours you've been spreading about me. Your little friend won't be back, you know. I'm betting she's some lowlife cape that they arrested as soon as they got her back to the building."

Intrigued, Taylor tuned her out for a moment and observed as Ms Bright got closer and closer to the room. _Huh. It looks like she's coming here. I wonder …_ "How much?" Taylor countered, boldly.

Emma blinked. "Excuse me?"

"How much do you want to bet Janesha's not going anywhere she doesn't want to be? You see, that's the joy of actually _being_ at the top of the food-chain, though someone like you and Sophia will never know what that really feels like, and for that I feel sorry for you." Twisting her lips to one side, she snorted on a chuckle and shook her head. "Nope. Sorry. Can't even pretend to say that with a straight face. You three deserve each other, Emma." She slid off the desk and moved as if to barge past them. "Enjoy the view from the bottom of the cesspit you've made of your lives."

Emma's hand snatched Taylor by the arm and shoved her back into the desk. Since they had had an inbound audience en route, Taylor didn't stop it. "You can't talk to me like that!"

Taylor shoved herself off the desk and straightened, knowing she was oozing the same confidence that Sophia usually did and loving every second of it. It was glorious! "Oh, I haven't even started, Emma," she said, keeping her voice low and level to avoid eavesdropping from outside. "You're all fucked, especially now that your precious Sophia has been permanently stripped of her powers. How long do you think it's going to take E88 and the ABB to figure out she's no longer the arrogant bully she was yesterday?"

"What are you babbling about now, Hebert?" Madison obviously wasn't in the know, given the look of confusion on her face. "Emma, what's she talking about?"

"Nothing." Emma bit the word off. "Mads, go watch the corridor. Make sure nobody walks in on us."

"What?" Madison looked betrayed. "But I want to—"

"Madison, stop screwing around and watch the corridor," Emma said with some asperity.

"Yeah, Madison, go watch the corridor like a good little bitch." Taylor smirked at the look of anger on the petite girl's face. "Sucks to be relegated to the bottom of the heap, doesn't it?"

Madison stomped over and stood glaring up at Taylor. If she wasn't such an unbearable cow, Taylor might have almost called her act adorable. "You're gonna regret talking to me like that," she warned, quite obviously lacking the courage to retaliate physically to Taylor's jab. "Sophia's gonna fuck you up so bad, and I'll watch every second and _laugh_."

"Word to the wise, Mads." Taylor wasn't quite sure what impulse had pushed her to use Emma's nickname for Madison, but the flare of anger this elicited was pure gold. "Sophia's never gonna have your back ever again. And when I give Blackwell the itemised list I've been keeping of every single prank you've pulled since _September,_ how fast do you think Emma's gonna kick your sorry ass to the curb, just to save herself?" Taylor winked and lowered her voice theatrically. "Pretty damn fast, if you ask me."

Clenching her fists, Madison stepped forward with murder in her eye. Taylor reached out with the middle three fingers of her left hand and rested them on Madison's breastbone, just below the hollow of her throat. Before Madison could react to this, Taylor … pushed. Caught off balance and unprepared for the sheer force behind Taylor's shove, Madison fell on her ass. "What the fuck?" she squawked.

Stepping back, Taylor folded her arms and leaned her butt against the desk with a slight smile as Emma extended her hand to help Madison to her feet.

"For fuck's sake, Madison, go and watch the fucking _door_ like you were told," the redhead snapped. "I'll take care of this."

"Yeah, Mads, go watch the door," Taylor reiterated, flicking her fingers in a shooing motion to see if she could bait the shorter girl into coming at her again. Despite her earlier words, she'd never even _begun_ to realise how much fun it was to be at the top of the pecking order. Almost as much fun, she suspected, as it would be to demonstrate to Emma and her friends where _their_ place lay. _Time for some good old-fashioned payback._

Madison's face turned a shade of red not far removed from the colour of Emma's hair. She went to lunge at Taylor again, but Emma interposed her own body, physically blocking her from completing the movement. "Jesus _fuck,_ Madison!" Emma shouted. "Stop letting her pull your goddamn chain! I said _I'll deal with this!"_

"Let me at her just once!" shrieked Madison, tears of rage spilling down her cheeks. "I'll show her who's a little bitch!" She tried to push past Emma again.

The slap echoed through the room. Taylor raised her eyebrows, impressed despite herself. Madison, half-turned by the force of the blow, put her hand up to where the red mark was just forming on her cheek. Emma, for her part, lowered her hand. "Now, stop fucking around and _watch_ the _fucking door,"_ she hissed.

Eyes wide, Madison stared at Emma. "You _hit_ me!" she protested. "What the _hell?"_

"Sophia would've punched your lights out by now if you'd pulled this shit with her," Emma pointed out, steel in her tone. "If I'm gonna put Taylor in her place properly, I need someone to watch the door. But you're not watching the fucking door. Why is that?" She raised her hand as if she were about to strike Madison again.

The smaller girl flinched back from the implied threat. "You shouldn't have hit me," she whined, but she moved toward the door anyway. "You should be hitting _Taylor,_ not me."

Taylor snorted in amusement and ran her tongue over her lips. If Emma went to hit her, she pondered, would she let Emma break her hand or would she allow it to push her back? Either way promised amusement. She'd had enough fun at Madison's expense for the moment, she decided. And Ms Bright was still on her way. _I'll have to time this just right._

She stayed silent while Madison sullenly opened the door and stepped outside. At her command, a small swarm of flies began to converge on the petite girl, buzzing idly by in gradually greater numbers. Madison didn't seem to notice in the slightest. In fact, she was only paying the most cursory attention to the corridor as she muttered to herself. Taylor couldn't make out what she was saying with her bugs, but it had to be something about how Emma had slapped her. It'd definitely made Taylor's top ten for 'favourite moments of the day'.

"So," she said as the door closed behind Madison. "Where were we? Oh, right. You say something vaguely hurtful, I ignore you, and then we start all over again. Except I'm not playing that game anymore. You want to know the difference between you and me?"

Emma stared at her, apparently off-balance from the confrontation with Madison. "What?" she said at last. "That you're a loser who'll be going to jail the moment the PRT finds out that you incited some whacko cape to attack Sophia, and I'm not?"

"Janesha's not a whacko or a cape," Taylor corrected her. "And on her worst day, she's still a thousand times more powerful than Shadow Stalker on her best day. If Shadow Stalker was ever getting her powers back, which she isn't."

She had to be careful about her timing; just as Ms Bright came around the corner, the swarm of flies closed in on Madison. The petite girl turned from trying to listen in through the door to waving them off, flailing with both hands.

"You're dreaming," spat Emma. "Power damper capes always have a range or a time limit or both. When Sophia gets her powers back, she's gonna take down that bitch herself then I'll take great pleasure in watching her kick your ass up and down the corridors of Winslow."

Taylor shook her head, a slow, lazy grin expanding across her face. "Like I said, there's one major difference between us. You know someone you _thought_ was strong. I know someone I _know_ is strong. Even if she had her powers back, Sophia would never stand a chance. She's _pitiful_ in comparison _._ Just like you. I'm pretty sure they only put her in the Wards because they felt sorry for her."

Outside the door, Madison turned toward where Ms Bright was approaching. Taylor's bugs noted that her mouth was opening, probably to call a warning. A fly down the throat triggered a bout of coughing that doubled her over. By the time she had recovered, Ms Bright was at the door and turning the handle.

"Sophia's a million times the cape your stupid fucking Janesha will ever be!" shouted Emma. "She's _strong!_ She's _powerful!_ The Wards are lucky to have Shadow Stalker!"

Ms Bright stepped into the room. "Emma Barnes," she said freezingly. For some reason, Taylor wasn't at all surprised the woman knew Emma by name. "Did I just hear you outing Sophia Hess as a cape? As a _Ward_?"

"Wow, it certainly sounded like that, didn't it?" Taylor confirmed. "I'm totally shocked and surprised."

She'd done her best not to ham it up too much, but Ms Bright still shot her a suspicious glance. "What do you know of this?" the older woman asked abruptly. "Why are you in here talking to Emma?"

Taylor shrugged. "Ask Emma. I'd just finished talking to Ms Parsons when Emma barged in and started yelling all sorts of stuff about Sophia. She knows Sophia and I don't like each other very much."

Ms Bright's eyes narrowed. "Do you know anything about what happened to Sophia today? Did you have anything to do with it?"

Shrugging seemed to be the best way to convey her absolute lack of giving a fuck. "I wasn't there, so … no. You'll have to ask Janesha about that one."

"Well, you now know Sophia Hess is a cape." Ms Bright's lips tightened. "This 'Janesha of Mystal' seems to have done something to her powers. Do you know how she learned that Sophia was a cape? Did you tell her?"

Taylor restrained the urge to roll her eyes. "I just told that other woman, Ms Parsons, all this stuff. No, I _didn't_ know Sophia was a cape until _after_ I went to class. When I left Emma and Sophia were talking to Janesha …" She paused, almost theatrically sliding her eyes across to Emma. " _Wait_ a minute. Did you and Sophia tell Janesha, after I left to try and intimidate her? Is that how it happened? Because I know _I_ didn't."

"What?" Emma looked from Taylor to the suddenly-intent expression of Ms Bright. "No! We didn't do anything like that! We wouldn't!"

"Well, Janesha's pretty new around here," Taylor observed. "It's not like there's a whole lot of ways she could've figured it out so soon after meeting Sophia …" She let her voice trail off speculatively.

To her satisfaction, Ms Bright took up the thread. "And you were _shouting_ about it when I walked in." She eyed Emma unfavourably. Taylor got the impression the woman was sizing up the redhead as someone to throw to the wolves in order to ensure her own continued survival in the PRT.

"But I—" spluttered Emma, with manner of someone who's fallen into the middle of a swarm of bees and knows that events are never going to end well. "I didn't—!" She pointed at Taylor with a shaking finger. "She did it! I don't know _how_ she did it, but _she did it!"_

Compared to her usual run of readily-believed accusations, this one fell remarkably flat. "Yeah, I've heard that one before, too," Taylor drawled. "I didn't do it then, either." She turned to Ms Bright. "Do you know, she and Sophia had people spreading a rumour that I locked _myself_ in my locker a couple of weeks ago? With the padlock on the outside? And some of them actually believed it, or pretended to, because it was those two saying it and me that it was about."

"Really." Ms Bright's gaze upon Emma became remarkably unfriendly. "Emma, I had you down as a reliable contact for Sophia. You were supposed to help me maintain her secret identity within the school. Now I find that not only were you assisting her in bullying someone else, but you're blurting out her secret to all and sundry. I'm afraid that you're going to need to come down to the PRT building for questioning at some point, to determine the full extent of your involvement in this debacle."

Something about the statement ran subtly false in Taylor's ears. It almost sounded as though Ms Bright was covering her own ass by … _ah ha._ Taylor glanced again at Ms Bright, who was dividing her attention between Taylor and Emma. _If she was just pissed at Emma, I wouldn't even be registering on her radar right now. She's trying to convince me that she had no idea what Sophia was up to … because, with or without Emma's help, she's directly responsible for Sophia in some way and she fell down on the job, big time._

It sounded about right in her own head, especially when she turned her cynicism up to eleven. She wasn't sure how it worked to have a PRT officer babysitting each of the Wards but given the presence of Ms Bright at Winslow, it was probably a thing.

The problem was, she had no idea what to do with that knowledge. Simply stating what she knew would be highly unlikely to result in negative effects to her, but undermining the woman's authority right now would reduce her ability to deal with Emma. And Taylor really, really wanted to see Emma suffer the consequences of her actions.

Emma, for her part, seemed to have finally realised just how much harm she was doing to herself whenever she opened her mouth. Currently, she was staring in shock at Ms Bright.

"I'd make sure your paperwork on it's airtight," Taylor added. "Her father's a lawyer, after all." She knew her gaze said something else altogether. _I know what you did, and didn't do. And now you know that I know. Don't you dare go light on her._

Ms Bright's eyes narrowed slightly, but then she smiled without humour. "Divorce lawyer," she pointed out, though her face read, _Well, fuck_. "Admittedly, we don't actually _have_ one of those on call, but we've got all the ones that actually matter." Her attention shifted to Emma, and her lips tightened. Taylor got the impression that whatever chance Emma had of wriggling out of trouble had just decreased considerably. From the way Emma's eyes widened, she'd gotten the same message.

"Then I guess I'll leave you to it," Taylor said sauntering towards the door. "Places to go, friends to meet. You know how it is." She paused in the open doorway and turned back, raising her eyebrows a little. "When would you like me to drop in to the PRT building for my statement on this incident?" _Because I_ will _be dropping in, and asking about how it was handled._

Once again, she caught the lowering of Ms Bright's eyelids to indicate that she understood her deeper meaning. "Any time in the next few days," the PRT woman said. "Just mention my name." _It'll get done._

"Sure thing." Taylor strolled out through the open door. Madison was nowhere to be seen … _ah._ The bugs she'd put on the girl located her in the cafeteria, sitting at a table with several other people. _No doubt pretending she was never outside the door in the first place. Well, there's nothing I can get her on right now, but she'll keep. I've got all the time in the world._ Of course, between Janesha's presence and the amount of problems that both Emma and Sophia were suffering, Madison was probably going to keep a very low profile for quite some time. Not low enough, but she didn't have to know that.

Heading back down the corridor, Taylor re-entered the cafeteria. It wasn't hard to spot Janesha; the celestial teen was seated alone at their table at the far end of the room, as if she were holding court and everyone within the sound of her voice was subject to her will. Given Taylor's experience with her, this wasn't entirely far from the truth of the matter.

As Taylor started over toward her friend, someone stuck their foot out and tried to trip her. Emphasis on 'tried'; when Taylor's ankle came into contact with the offending appendage, she braced herself and swept her foot through the obstacle. This was something she never would've been able to do before Janesha gave her the strength and durability upgrade. As it was, the resultant shriek and thud of the girl falling off her seat turned a few heads. Taylor looked down at the girl sprawled on the floor; Julia somebody or other. One of Emma's peripheral hangers-on, she tended to help Madison cause trouble for Taylor in World Affairs.

"Careful where you stick your foot," Taylor said with icy amusement. "I might've tripped." Turning her back on Julia, she headed over to where Janesha was watching with a displeased look on her face.

"You went easy on her," she said without preamble as Taylor sat down. "The bitch tried to trip you. Why didn't you smack her down hard instead of just humiliating her?"

Taylor chuckled. "That sentence all by itself shows just how little you know about red-blooded American teenagers." Discreetly thumbing over her shoulder at the girl in question, she added, "She'd rather have a hundred beat-downs than suffer the humiliation of everyone in the school knowing her as the girl who tried to trip me up and got knocked on her own ass instead." Wanting to change the subject for more than one reason, Taylor glanced either side of her at the room of onlookers and added quietly, "Any chance we can get back that silencing bubble thing you had us under earlier?"

Janesha sighed and rolled her eyes, but the sound around them suddenly cut out. Taylor grinned in appreciation and slid into a seat opposite her friend. "So how'd it go with Armsmaster and the PRT?"

Janesha took the subject change with good grace. "It went," she said. "Their Director tried to pull a remote meeting on me, but I yanked the plug on that shit so fast I think her head's still spinning. If it's not face to face, it's not happening. But I had a good talk with Armsmaster in the meantime, and I think we're on the same page. Though if their Director keeps trying that kind of crap, she's gonna get on my last nerve sooner or later."

Taylor winced. Getting on Janesha's nerves wasn't exactly the recipe for enjoying a long and healthy life. Or at least, not one where the offender went to sleep the same species as they woke up. "Um … not to channel Dad here, but … if the PRT Director does get on your nerves again, can you maybe tell me before you do something drastic about it? I'd really hate for something unpleasant to happen to her because of a misunderstanding."

Janesha opened her mouth as if to deny this, but nothing came out. Probably because she realised Taylor knew what she was talking about. It seemed Janesha still had a problem with giving people the right to disagree with her without repercussion. "Fine," the Mystallian sighed, scratching the flesh alongside her right eye. "When and if I can, I'll explicitly tell you before I do anything to that woman." Her hand then dropped and she gave Taylor a withering look. "Just don't expect it to change anything."

Taylor grinned and clapped her hands together, ending them in a prayer position. "I guess I'll just have to have faith that I can make a difference with you."

The double meaning of both her words and her actions wasn't lost on Janesha, whose scowl darkened considerably. "Ha … fucking … ha."

But Taylor was in too good a mood to let Janesha detract from it. Dropping her hands to the table, she blurted out, "I got even with Emma."

That perked Janesha up and she sat back in her seat, cocking an eyebrow. "Do tell," she said wryly.

And for the next fifteen minutes, Taylor did just that, leaving out nothing.

But, instead of celebrating her victory with her, Janesha's dark scowl returned and she began slowly scanning the heads of those in the cafeteria.

Realising she was searching for Madison, Taylor shifted her chair to block her friend's view of the annoying brunette. "Now, now," she chided, cheekily. "No fucking up my non-powered enemies before I do, Janesha. That's just rude."

Janesha gave her a telling look, but then her lips twisted to one side and a glint of amusement entered her eyes. "You lot have way too many rules, you know that? Don't do this. Don't do that. No turning the Principal into a wading bird. No blowing the top three floors off the PRT building. How do you ever get stuff done?"

Taylor paused. The image of Blackwell as a wading bird kind of fitted Taylor's impression of her. The bad-tempered type, with a sharp beak. Was it wrong of her to kind of want to see that happen? _Stop,_ she ordered herself. _Bad Taylor. No asking the fledgling goddess to abuse her powers for your benefit._

"We manage," she replied, though to be honest she didn't really think she'd been managing too well before Janesha came along. There were too many people who knew exactly what the rules were, and broke them all the time just to screw her over. "I'm sure you have your own rules. Things that you're not allowed to do. Things that you're obliged to do."

"Fewer than you'd think, actually." Janesha leaned back in her chair. "In Mystal, family's important. You back up the family, you back up the pantheon—which amounts to much the same thing—and you own your space. Other pantheons have gods that either prank or outright betray each other, sometimes for nothing more than shits and giggles. Pranks, we do all the time. Betrayal …" —she shook her head and made a negatory sound of disgust in the back of her throat— "… no. Never. We don't really have any set of codified laws like you do. In all the known realms, there's really only three real rules." Her head cocked to one side and she amended, "Well, four if you count boons, though boons are more like a gentleman's agreement between celests that can never be reneged on." Something must have occurred to Janesha, for her eyes widened and she reached across the table, taking Taylor's hands in hers. "Don't ever, ever, _ever_ offer an unspecified boon, Taylor. Not even to me. The price is _always_ way too high. I'm deadly serious about that."

"How bad could it be?" Not that she was going to do it, but Taylor's curiosity had been piqued. This was the first time Janesha had ever been that serious about anything.

Releasing her hands, Janesha closed her right hand into a fist and opened it again. In the middle of her palm was a gorgeous pendant in the shape of a rearing Cloudstrike. "If I was to offer you this in exchange for a boon and you accepted it, you'd owe me a boon."

"Like money?"

"Like whatever I want, whenever I want, however I wanted to word it. If you accepted this without narrowing down the specifics of what you had to do to get it, I could tell you this afternoon that I wanted you to stab your father to death while he slept tonight." The look in her eyes was lethal. "And you'd either do it or die trying."

Taylor reared away from her friend's gem-encrusted offering as if it was poison, shoving her hands behind her back. "Agreeing to a boon would make me do that?"

Janesha nodded very seriously. "Not _would_ , petal. But it _could_. That and more. I could say, 'I want you to wipe out this whole city', and with your control of bugs, there wouldn't be a living thing left in Brockton Bay by tomorrow. It's not the fact of accepting a boon, but what the boon-giver decides they want as payment. You have no say in how an unspecified boon will be collected, so long as you have the capacity to fulfil it. None at all. My cousin's grandfather is a master at extracting unspecified boons from people with the smallest of costs to himself. The celests are wise to it, but mortals still fall for it every time." Janesha allowed the pendant to disappear in a puff of smoke. "Some of them even do it for a warm meal or a safe place to sleep for a few hours." She sat back and shook her head sadly. "I've lost count of the number of stories I've heard of mortal men selling their lives away for one night with the woman of their dreams. They never realise the price until it's too late."

Taylor cleared her throat and stretched her neck uncomfortably. There was only so much doom and gloom she could handle at once. "You said there were three other rules?"

Janesha nodded. "Though they're more like … common sense guidelines. One: Don't fuck with Chaos. Lord Belial will fuck your shit up before you even see him coming. Two: Don't go near the Nexus. I've no idea what's back there, but basically you'll never be heard from again. And three: Don't mess with Mystal. Like ever. Unlike everywhere else, we're so packed with ranged benders and a few shifters that we could take out anyone dumb enough to come at us, even before we touched our powerbases."

Taylor nodded. "Oh, I definitely get that. You're scary enough on your own. Even if I had all the power you've got right now, what you've told me about Mystal and Lord Avis would be enough to make me back the hell off. I like having my thoughts exactly where they are, thank you very much." Not for the first time, she reflected that her personal definition of 'terrifying' had changed dramatically since meeting Janesha.

"Which makes you smarter than most mortals and more than a few celests, to be honest." Janesha smirked. "Of course, if they're lucky, they learn their mistake before it's too late. Or they don't." Her meaning was unmistakeable.

"Yeah, I—" Taylor cut herself off as the bell rang to go back into class. "Oh hey, more schoolwork. Getting bored yet?"

"Meh, if you can take it, I can take it. And who knows, Madison might try something on me." Janesha's tone was positively predatory. She slid her eyes sideways to Taylor. "And don't even try to enforce 'dibs' if she pulls any shit like that."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "If she's that stupid, you're welcome to her." Getting up, she brushed her jeans off. "But don't worry, she'll keep."

Janesha nodded. "True. Two down, one to go."

* * *

 **Shadow Stalker**

* * *

Sophia looked at the clock set into the wall of the chamber, then she went to the door and tried it. It didn't open. "Hey!" she shouted, and rattled the door. "How long are you going to keep me in here? I need to go to the bathroom!" There were actually facilities within the room, but they were claustrophobically cramped. And besides, she wanted to get out of the testing room.

The speaker over the door crackled as someone switched it on. _"I'm sorry, but we've been given orders not to let you out."_ The apologetic tone belonged to one of the techs who'd been conducting the tests, earlier.

"What? Why?" she demanded. "I'm a _Ward,_ not a goddamn prisoner!"

There was a pause, then another voice came through the speaker. She recognised it immediately as Deputy Director Renick. _"That's actually … not entirely accurate. We have it under good authority that your powers will not be returning."_

"What? No!" She hammered on the door with her fists. "Did that little skank Janesha tell you that? She's a lying cow! And why the _hell_ haven't you arrested her? She assaulted me with parahuman powers!"

 _"We've spoken to both Janesha and Taylor Hebert, separately. Their stories match up, and are at variance with yours."_ His tone was dry as dust, but still managed to put a chill down her spine.

Sophia gritted her teeth. "You let her _talk?_ I told you, Hebert's a Master—"

 _"Both personnel who spoke to her have undergone testing for Master influence since returning to the PRT building, and come up negative,"_ Renick informed her imperturbably. _"In addition, their personal recollections of the conversations match the recordings they took at the same time. For the time being, we're going with the working theory that Janesha of Mystal has powers whereas Taylor Hebert does not."_

"So you're just gonna accept their word over mine, is that it?" Sophia didn't have to work too hard to inject bitterness into her tone. "I've been a Ward since last year. Janesha's a fucking showboater who literally arrived _yesterday._ I see how it is now."

 _"I don't believe you do."_ Renick's tone held an edge of severity. _"Armsmaster spoke at length with Janesha. Not only did his voice analysis software return a high degree of probability that her statements were true, but he stated that his 'gut' was telling him the same thing."_

"And what's that got to do with me?" demanded Sophia.

 _"Apparently, both Janesha and Ms Hebert had quite a bit to say about you and Emma Barnes, and some bullying incidents at Winslow. We will be requesting the documentation of these incidents from Principal Blackwell. In the meantime, Armsmaster has been running some of your prior statements, including ones you made about Ms Hebert and Janesha herself, through his voice analysis software. You may be interested to know that he's found a high degree of consistent lying, and that a semantic analysis of the lies happens to bear out the accounts given to us by Janesha and Ms Hebert."_ If the content of his speech hadn't been so devastating to her, she would've tuned out his dry recital. As it was she listened, horrified, to every word.

"No, no, no!" she insisted, feeling the creeping doom at the back of her neck. "They're _lying!_ I've done nothing wrong! Get Armsmaster and his voice stress thingy in here! I'll tell him myself!"

 _"You'll get your chance. But for now, sit tight. If it turns out that Janesha was indeed telling the truth, we will have preparations to make."_

The speaker went silent then, leaving Sophia to her thoughts. She didn't want to think about whatever 'preparations' he was talking about, but that didn't help; her busy mind popped up a few possibilities all by itself. The main one was the most worrying; the original charge that had nearly landed her in juvey. If her powers were gone for good, that meant she was no longer a Ward. No longer in possession of a 'get out of jail free' card.

Of course, that probably wasn't the case, because shit like this didn't _happen_ to Sophia.

There had to be another explanation. If only she could think of one …

* * *

End of Part Nine


	10. Chapter 10

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Ten: A Deeper Perspective

* * *

 _[A/N: this chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Karen Buckeridge, the author of Ties That Bind. For an explanation as to why it is a few days early, see A/N 4.]_

 _[A/N 2: The names Sagun and Edeena both mean 'divine'. I am very pleased with this.]_

 _[A/N 3: There are references within this chapter to events, people and places from the future of the_ _ **Celestial Wars**_ _series. These are not spoilers precisely, merely things that will come up in later books.]_

 _[A/N 4: Karen and I will be attending_ _ **Gold Coast Supanova**_ _on April 13-14, at the_ _ **Words on Paper (Ink)**_ _table (#58) in the Alley. We'll be glad to chat with anyone who shows up.]_

* * *

 **Winslow High School  
3:31 PM  
Taylor**

* * *

Janesha looked at the closed door to the classroom, then at the remainder of the students in the room. Nobody seemed to be staring at her any more, probably because she wasn't doing anything outrageous to draw attention, and sitting in the same room as a cape for an hour tended to dull the 'wow' factor. Most of them were talking quietly among themselves. Taylor was pretty sure there was a poker game going on in the back corner.

She'd been thinking about Janesha's status as a cape, mainly because of her argument with Ms Parsons, and had reluctantly come to the conclusion that she might've been a little off on her definitions. Janesha wasn't a parahuman, that was for certain. In Taylor's mind, she'd have had to be born human first. But, and this was the roadblock Taylor had run into, some definitions of 'cape' didn't actually equate to 'human with powers and a costume'. The most basic version of the term essentially went 'if you've got powers above the capacity of a human and wear a costume, you're a cape'. Under those circumstances, there was no requirement to be human or otherwise.

Janesha had what anyone on Earth Bet would call a costume. _She'd_ call it her uniform, because amongst her peers, it was technically so. But until another Mystallian showed up on Bet to compare it to, it was effectively a costume (and a pretty cool one, at that). The second part of the requirement—having powers—Janesha met in _spades._ If Taylor understood things correctly, it wasn't so much that Janesha _had_ powers, but that she _was_ power.

All celestials were that way; power made flesh. It was a conclusion Taylor had reached after Janesha had casually mentioned that death was not the same for celestials as for mortals. Upon suffering a mortal injury or disease, all celestials who _could_ die either through a lack of established immortality or the presence of a specific powerbase thrall mandating their death either specifically or generally (Taylor thought that last one was kinda suicidal. Who would want to put in place an end date for their existence?) simply winked out of existence. Like vampires in the movies, only without the ash pile. Without a mortal soul to carry them over, their bodies vanished into nothingness.

From what she could tell, the Asgardians had at some point attempted a work-around for this problem, but what they'd ended up with was something Taylor figured she could spend the rest of her life dissecting and still not make any sense of. They'd not only put it in their thrall that they could die (how dumb was that?), but then they went to the trouble of creating a catch-clause that kept their essence from disappearing when it happened.

That in itself wasn't the stupidest part. Asgard had a feasting hall called Valhalla. A glorious place where deceased mortal warriors went to party out the rest of time. But this was _not_ where the Asgardian gods ended up. No, it was in their thrall that when the gods themselves happened to die, they went to Hel. What? Who came up with this insanity? If she going to be a goddess writing the playbook of how things were going to work, _she'd_ be the one dying and going to Valhalla, not the mortals who worshipped her. Worse still, when they got to Hel, they became enslaved to the ruling goddess there (also named Hel, because screw originality). Fucking what?! An eternity of being a slave, and they seriously put their hands up for it? The more she learned about the ways of the celestials, the crazier some of them seemed to be. Taylor hadn't even bothered to ask what happened to Asgardians if they died outside the reach of that thrall; though she suspected they simply vanished, like unestablished celestials did.

"Is he coming back?" asked Janesha. Her question was not unexpected. As per his occasional habit, Mr Quinlan had shambled out of the classroom with twenty minutes to go and had not returned. This practice tended to confuse students new to the class.

"Maybe," Taylor replied with a shrug. "He does this occasionally. Once in a while he comes back. Usually, he doesn't." Some among the student body believed that Mr Quinlan had a drinking problem. Others maintained that he had no problem with it at all, and did it as much as possible.

Janesha raised an eyebrow and snorted in surprise. "And nobody does anything about it?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Damn, if one of my tutors had ever been dumb enough to try that even once, him and his whole fucking family would have their minds ashed or be mentally turned into dung beetles by the time Mom was finished with them."

Taylor arched an ironic eyebrow. "You _have_ seen Winslow, right?" _Wait … did she just say the tutor's whole family would suffer that fate with him?_ Wow. That was … kinda harsh.

"Well, yeah, true." Janesha chuckled, then crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out. "From what I saw of that Blackwell bitch, she doesn't give a shit either way. I've never seen a bunch of people so uninterested in actually doing their jobs."

"Mm-hmm." Taylor was still listening, but she'd noticed a couple of guys whispering together across the room. She wouldn't have cared, except they kept sneaking the occasional glance toward Janesha … and both of them had shaved heads. _Oh, please tell me they aren't planning to do something stupid to Janesha._ If they were lucky, Janesha would only eviscerate them.

"Well, I'm officially bored." Janesha stood up abruptly, startling her out of her internal rhetoric. "And you sound bored too. So, what's say we just get the fuck outta here? Unless you really want to stay?"

Taylor couldn't shake her head fast enough. "Nah, I'm all Winslowed out for today." She got to her feet as well and began to shove her books into her bag. "Are we gonna be riding Cloudstrike to the Boat Graveyard?"

Janesha stretched, working her spine back and forth. Taylor knew she was only doing it for effect, as she'd seen her cast stimulation waves to bring herself back to a state of physical perfection before. "It's up to you, but if we take Cloudstrike, she's not going to be happy with a trip that starts here and ends at the boat graveyard. Though with her temper, she'll make short work of a few vessels which may be a good thing too." Behind her, the Empire guys got up and began to wander in their direction.

Taylor moved to intercept them. "Can I help you?" she asked bluntly. She didn't know or care what their intentions were but if they made it to Janesha, it'd probably be the last thing they ever did as humans.

"You shouldn't be hanging with people like her," the nearest one said, as if doing her a favour.

This was such a backflip on how people normally said this sort of thing to other people about her, that Taylor had to swallow her smile. "What, capes?" she asked, deliberately misunderstanding his meaning.

The reminder that Janesha was anything but unpowered brought a grimace to his face. "Don't be a fuckin' idiot," he sneered. "She might be a cape, but you ain't. Friends of people like that have been known to get hurt."

Taylor knew _all_ of her teeth showed in the smile that worked its way across her face. "Was that a threat?" she asked, taking a half step towards the speaker. "Are you _seriously_ threatening me?" When he failed to deny it, a snort of amusement escaped her lips. "My God, that's probably about the stupidest thing you've ever done in your life. And yes, I'm including the lapse in judgement that led you to join the Empire Eighty-Eight."

Janesha came to stand alongside her with her arms folded in warning, but didn't add her thoughts to the mix. Taylor got the impression it wasn't because she couldn't, but because she wanted Taylor to handle this herself. Still grinning like a shark, Taylor glanced at her powerful friend and winked. This was seriously too easy, and waaay too much fun.

The speaker must have seen the wink, because a second later, he had a flick-knife in his hand, which he opened with a roll of his wrist. "You dumb, stupid cun…"

Refusing to let him finish that sentence, Taylor got right up into his grille and shoved him hard. By getting between them and Janesha, she'd been trying to save their stupid, skinhead lives … and in a way she still was.

Unprepared for the move and for the celestial-granted strength she put behind it, he flew back, flailing his arms wildly. He cannoned into his buddy and they both kept going, rolling over an unmanned desk before sprawling awkwardly to the floor. While they were still trying to untangle themselves from each other, she moved over to them and assessed them for damage. Nobody had been cut by the knife, for which she was mildly thankful. "Take a hint," she said bluntly. "You idiots stay away from Janesha and me, or the next time I'll let _her_ deal with you."

Right on cue, Janesha clicked her tongue in mock irritation. Or it may have been real; Taylor couldn't tell. "Taylor, what have I said about hogging all the terminally stupid assholes?" the Mystallian asked, shaking her head ever so slightly. "Don't you know that guests are supposed to have first dibs?"

"Fuck you!" blurted the guy who'd had the knife. "Hookwolf'll gut you, you n—"

He broke off with a sound of ugly agony as Janesha stamped her booted heel into his crotch without a hint of remorse or effort: like crushing a bug she'd already forgotten about. Not being a hundred percent sure of the constraints of her own strength, Taylor didn't want to try that stunt yet, but the way the guy stayed conscious enough to curl around the afflicted area made her realise Janesha knew exactly what she was doing. It didn't stop her as a fellow human being from feeling some small measure of sympathy towards him. Nowhere near as much as every other guy in the room, if the way they all winced simultaneously and sidled away from Janesha was anything to go by.

Still with her foot on his crotch, Janesha as she looked around challengingly. "Anyone else want to say something stupid before we go?" she asked, eyes roving around the room. "No? Good. Let's get out of here, Taylor."

Without looking, Taylor reached out toward her. She felt the leather glove close over her hand, and stepped forward in time with Janesha. They stood in the forest of crystal columns, then stepped again to end up at the Docks.

"Wow," Taylor said, giggling a little shakily as reaction caught up with her. "That boy is _never_ gonna have kids, not the way you groin-stomped him." She put her hand to her chest, feeling her heart rate. Despite the fact that she was almost impervious to harm, it was still elevated. Some reflexes never went away.

"Eh, he should get over it. Eventually." With a wry grin, she added, "Better question is, will anyone notice his absence in the species gene pool?" Laughing at her own wit, Janesha tossed her hair. "Anyway, you started it by shoving the moron. Nice control, by the way. Pretty sure you didn't want to have to explain putting him through the wall."

"Yeah, it might've been hard to explain away …" As it was the first time Taylor took in her surroundings, her jaw dropped. "Ho…whoa…Janesha, we've got company." _And boy, do we have company!_

The audience that had gathered was made up of several groups, the largest of which consisted of a crowd of burly individuals. She didn't know all of the Dockworkers, but enough of the ones she did know were there to make the identification of that group easy. Her father, who'd been standing at the front of that crowd talking to Armsmaster, noticed them and started toward her. The armoured hero followed a few feet behind.

The next group would've been easy to name, even if Armsmaster hadn't been there. The gaudy costumes of the Protectorate and Wards stood out against the general decrepitude and decay of the dockside, with Dauntless, Kid Win and Aegis holding their positions in the sky above. Or at least, she was pretty sure that was who they were. The PRT soldiers accompanying the ground-bound capes in their dark armour and opaque faceplates were a grim counterpoint to the bright outfits of the parahuman heroes.

Not that those were the only heroes on site. Standing near the Wards were Brandish, Flashbang, Manpower, Glory Girl and Panacea of New Wave. Lady Photon, Laserdream and Shielder shared the skies with the government heroes.

Just as Taylor's father got to them, Janesha turned her head as well, taking in the gathering. "These would be your Dockworkers?" the Mystallian surmised. Taylor wasn't at all surprised at the conclusion; Janesha wasn't stupid, and she had her mind bending to fall back on.

"Yeah," she said, before her father could respond. "Hey, Dad. I guess you spread the word?" She gave him a quick hug.

"That's right." He ruffled her hair fondly. "I figured they'd earned front-row seats to whatever Janesha does here today. It affects them more than most." He looked around at the other people on site. "Though I have no idea how _they_ knew to be here."

Taylor turned and rested against her father's lean form, while he kept a hand on her shoulder. "Well, Armsmaster might've visited Winslow today, and Janesha kind of told him what we were going to be doing."

"Correct, Miss Hebert," Armsmaster said as he caught up with them. "Good afternoon, Miss Janesha. I felt it would be interesting and instructive for the Protectorate and Wards to observe you in action. If that's okay with you, of course." He paused, probably to deal with something that his fancy helmet HUD was showing him. "Though, if I'm not much mistaken, Winslow High has yet to finish classes today. How is it you're here early?"

 _Called it,_ Taylor mused to herself.

Janesha rolled her eyes. "When the math teacher decides to walk out of class to go get drunk twenty minutes ahead of schedule, what am I supposed to do? Teach the class myself? Screw that. If the teacher can book, so can we." She rubbed her nose as she took in the crowd. "Okay, I get it that the PRT, Protectorate and Wards are on site. But who told New Wave?"

"Gallant," Armsmaster said with an irritated sigh. "He and the younger members of New Wave are close." But then his lips drew down in a frown. "Getting back to what you said earlier. Which teacher at Winslow is leaving class unattended to get drunk?"

"Mr Quinlan," Taylor cut in, not having the slightest regret for throwing the math teacher to the wolves. "He doesn't do it every day, or even every other day, but he does it often enough that everyone knows."

Armsmaster shook his head, his lips pinching together tightly. "Expect some serious changes to be made at that school," he said, almost in a promise. "As soon as we're done here, I'll be paying a personal visit to the Board of Education. That level of laxity and inefficiency is truly reprehensible."

"Knock yourself out," Janesha said airily. "It's your school, so it's your education standards he's turning to shit." She cocked her head towards Danny. "If you brought all these dockworkers in, don't you figure they deserve a front-row seat? The way it is now, most of them won't be able to see a thing." As if deciding for herself, she pushed between the armoured hero and Danny and kept going. "Hold that thought. I'll be right back."

"Uh, okay," Danny said, but Janesha was already on her way to the crowd. Taylor gave him a tiny shrug. Janesha hadn't been asking for permission; she'd been telling him and Armsmaster how things were going to be. _Because that's what she does. Duh._

"Everyone!" Janesha didn't shout, but Taylor felt her voice in the same bone-deep way it had when Janesha whistled for Cloudstrike. "Quiet down and line up like you were sitting on a stadium!"

Dockworkers were among the most contrary people in Brockton Bay. Taylor knew this like she knew that the sun came up in the east, and the ABB was made up of Asian gangsters. Who else would've hung around year after year, doggedly persisting as their livelihood slowly ebbed away? For a total stranger (even a cape) to give them orders without even an introduction should've sparked half a hundred arguments. Instead, they all shuffled silently into rough lines.

Despite the fact that Janesha was not in their chain of command (except inasmuch as she'd inserted herself into it) the assembled heroes and PRT personnel also fell into line. Armsmaster watched this then turned to Taylor, opening his mouth to ask a question.

"She's very persuasive," Taylor answered before he could voice his concern. "People tend to go with the flow around her."

"True," agreed Armsmaster. "She is definitely a very strong-willed young lady. If she should ever choose to join the Wards …"

"Yeah, nope." Taylor cut that line of thought off before it could properly begin. "She's never gonna be interested in the Wards. Besides, she's good enough on her own."

"Also true," conceded the armoured hero, then looked around. "I don't see Cloudstrike anywhere."

"Janesha decided to leave her at home," Taylor explained. "We'll probably take her out for a flight later. She really likes to stretch her wings, and a short hop across town will just annoy her."

"Does this have anything to do with why the three of you were spotted re-entering the atmosphere this morning by one of Dragon's satellites?" Armsmaster asked, and she could almost _feel_ his eyebrow rising under that helmet in a silent, ' _Yeah, you know exactly what I'm talking about, and I know you know'_ kind of way. "How far and fast can Cloudstrike fly, anyway?"

Taylor snorted softly and shook her head. "You literally would not believe me if I told you."

While they'd been talking, Janesha had walked forward, up the side of the formation. She didn't give any more orders, but the lines evened themselves out as if by magic. Danny looked at Taylor as if to say _are you seeing this too?_

Taylor nodded in reply. It was a celestial thing, of course. She and Danny were both fully aware that the mortal world was actively eager to do the bidding of a celestial. It was also clear (to those in the know, of course) that the lines were evening out because Janesha was bending them into stepping forward or back as required. From the look on his face, her father had already realised this. If Taylor had to guess, he wasn't totally thrilled that she was casually controlling his men and women like that, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Janesha had shown the extent of her tolerance for their telling her what to do, and neither Taylor nor Danny wanted to push her in that regard.

Sometimes, Taylor reflected, Janesha just came right out and demonstrated how horrifyingly powerful celestials could be, and how this translated to a lack of concern for the rights of any mortals that might be in their way. "I'm just glad she's on our side."

Danny shook his head. "No. She's letting us be on _her_ side. And for that, I'm thankful."

Armsmaster looked at the both of them, but made no comment.

Having reached the last row and straightened it out, Janesha raised her hands in front of her then clapped her palms together. As if in response, a two-foot-high concrete bench grew out of the ground behind the last row of Dockworkers. She clapped again, and a section of concrete rose under the entire back row, to make a concrete bench for the row in front. Walking back toward Taylor and Danny, she clapped her hands in a steady rhythm; each time, the benches at the rear rose another two feet, literally growing a stadium out of the solid ground.

By the time she reached the last line, the people farther up the stadium were sitting down on their newly-made seats. Taylor could tell that the benches weren't solid blocks, but instead flat slabs, given that she could see daylight behind them. From this, she surmised that instead of pulling in one block of solid mass from wherever, her friend had reshaped the concrete beneath them, lifting it in stages.

"Nicely done," Danny said as Janesha returned to them, ignoring the insane applause that erupted in the stands behind her. "But what was the clapping for?"

"The rhythm gave them a chance to know when it was their turn to expect a seat," she said with a cheeky grin. "It keeps people calm when they think they know what to expect."

Before he could respond, there was a streak of gold and white that resolved into Glory Girl hovering in front of Janesha. She reached out and tapped Janesha on the shoulder. "Tag," she said, smugly. "Where's your flying horse?"

"Mystallion," Taylor said in unison with Janesha, Danny echoing them half a second later.

"Yeah, whatever." Glory Girl looked around theatrically. "Where is it? I wanna rematch. And this time don't teleport."

Janesha's expression darkened and she took a step forward, then a step _up_ , as if she were standing on the air. Face to face with Glory Girl, she spoke in a low, intense tone. "Check the footage that's all over the globe by now, Glory Girl. We didn't realm-step anywhere. We went in a very straight line to Rio and back, and you just couldn't keep up. Accept that as a fact, because I have no desire to pander to your sore-loser complex until you finally realise this and give up. **_Now back off and let me work_**. I've got a job to do."

It may have been Taylor's imagination, but she felt she heard something coming through Janesha's voice partway through her speech to Glory Girl. From the way the teen hero turned and flew away without further argument, Glory Girl may have heard it too. _Or maybe she just realised that it's a bad idea to mess with Janesha. Two down, three hundred fifty thousand in this city alone to go._

"All right then," Janesha stated, slapping her hands together. Taylor noticed she seemed to do that a lot. "Is there anyone _else_ who wants to bother me with extraneous crap? No? Good." She headed toward the dockside where dozens of ships lay. Some were at anchor while others obviously rested on the harbour bed, waterlogged or altogether sunken. None were in great shape, after fifteen years or so of neglect and vandalism.

It was nearly high tide, so the ocean level was only about six feet below the edge of the dock. Without pausing, Janesha strode up to the edge and jumped off. There was no splash, and in another few moments Taylor saw her strolling across the slowly heaving swells toward the nearest ship as though she were standing on solid ground. Taylor had just seen her (presumably) use her touch-shifting on _air_ to make it act as though it were temporarily solid, so walking on water didn't seem out of place. That was when another thought struck her, and she barely managed to hold back a facepalm. _For someone who doesn't want any worshippers, you're seriously pushing your luck emulating the very guy you swear you don't have any time for._

When Janesha reached the ship, she put her hands to its hull. Taylor wasn't sure what to expect; for all she knew, it was going to grow legs and walk out of the bay or collapse like a punctured balloon or turn into solid diamond. She'd long since learned not to think small when it came to Janesha and her capabilities. Which was why she wasn't _totally_ astonished when Janesha picked the whole damn ship up and held it over her head, leaving a _hole in the water._ Tossing it in the air, the celestial teen caught it one-handed as it came down bow-first. Water poured out of open hatchways and splashed into the hole that was left behind, accompanied by random trash and sealife that had been lying around on the deck of the ship, or occupying the interior. Walking back toward shore, Janesha didn't seem particularly concerned by the fact that she was holding a fifty or sixty thousand ton ship over her head like a child's toy. Minor issues such as the breaking strain of steel and the shifting centre of balance of the ship didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. Taylor was pretty sure that the distant sound she could hear was the hundred and fifty or so spectators all whispering "Bullshit" at the same time.

 _Well,_ she thought with a private grin. _They came for a show. They got a show._

* * *

 **Contessa**

 **Cauldron Base**

 **Some Other Earth**

* * *

It had been a trying few days. All Contessa wanted to do was sit back, relax and catch up with the news of the day. She settled into her favourite chair in her private quarters, in front of her favourite desk, the one with an eighty-five inch screen set up as a backstop. The coffee had been brewed to her liking and was (of course) perfect; tapping a key, she set the big news items scrolling through as she leaned back and sipped at the cup. A tablet rested on her thigh, ready to note down anything interesting.

There were a few incidents that had happened the day before yesterday, and she paused the newsfeed as she took up the tablet. It only took a few moments to make the required reminders to look into them. If civilisation was to continue in such a way that the Golden Fucking Moron could eventually be _eradicated_ , then she'd have to get rid of some of the more egregious threats. It was a delicate balancing act between necessity, her capabilities and her willingness to act.

Restarting the feed, she got comfortable as something called 'the Whistle' popped up in the top right-hand corner of her screen. It was nothing to be worried about; probably just some new cape showing off their abilities. Happened all the time. And then the corresponding image filled the screen. Contessa, caught in mid-sip, inhaled half a cup of coffee and sprayed it all over the screen as she fell out of her chair.

* * *

 **Dorian**

* * *

The first Dorian knew about it was when he heard the thump, then the hacking and coughing that followed. He hurried through from the quarters he shared with his brother to find Fortuna on her knees, the coffee cup off to the side in a growing pool of coffee, and tiny dribbles of the brown substance all over the desk screen. She was red in the face, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Shit, Fortuna," he said rushing to her side. "What happened to _you?_ " With his team leader's natural propensity for ensuring things went her way, he would never have expected to find her in this state.

"Mystallian," she rasped, pulling herself to her feet with only a little assistance from him and pointing wildly at the screen with her left hand. "There's a _fucking_ Mystallian on Earth Bet."

His eyes widened in horror. "You're shitting me. You have to be shitting me." His gaze lifted to the frozen image of a winged horse with two passengers soaring over Rio de Janeiro on the screen.

If the flying equine wasn't enough to convince him, the black of its rider's garb with the accursed gold insignia on her cloak that marked her as a denizen of Mystal did. "Mother-fucker. You're not shitting me." Drawing the air into his lungs, he let out a tremendous bellow. "CLARE! GET YOUR SORRY ASS IN HERE!"

It didn't help Dorian's rising temper that his brother chose to maintain the dumb-as-dogshit persona which he presented to the mortal members of Cauldron, shambling in from their shared quarters with an idiotic slack look on his face. The ash-pits that were his eye sockets stared blindly at Dorian. "Wha' wrong?" he asked, in a sing-song voice that implied utter naivete.

"There's a fucking _Mystallian_ in this sorry excuse for a fucking realm!" snapped Dorian. " _That's_ what's happening!"

The change in Clare's stance and attitude would've been funny in any other circumstance. He straightened to his full height—a few centimetres taller than Dorian—and his eye sockets flared up with the flames common to his mother's heritage, transforming the recesses from dead ash to live embers. "The _fuck_ you say!" he snapped, crossing the room in two long strides. He took in the image on the coffee-stained screen and turned to Fortuna. "How the fuck did _this_ happen? How many of them are there? Are we compromised?"

Dorian was shorter than Clare but more physically powerful. With one hand, he took hold of the front of Clare's tunic and slammed him into the wall behind the desk. Dust shimmered down from the ceiling. "How the fuck _did_ it happen, brother? _You're_ the one who's supposed to see all and hear all. Have you been looking up your own ass for the last thirty years, or just fucking spying on women in the fucking showers? How did even _one_ Mystallian show up here without you being all over it?"

Clare tried to push back, but didn't have the body strength to do so. "Because for the last thirty years, _brother,_ you and Fortuna have had me listening for _one realm-damned fucking word_ night and day, week in and week out, just so I could tell _you_ when someone wanted to go somewhere. 'Doorway' this and doorway that. Doorway here, doorway there." Clare's eye-flames were miniature infernos. "I'm fed up to the fuckin' back teeth with it. But if I'm listening for 'doorway', I can't be blamed for not searching for the fucking _enemy."_

"Well, now you're doing both!" Dorian glanced over his shoulder at Fortuna. "What do we do, Fortuna? Revenge for the loss of our team is one thing, but if the Mystallians have found us …"

"They haven't found shit," Clare declared with a snarl, causing Dorian to release a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. Despite the fist Dorian had tangled in Clare's tunic, the psychic of their team tilted his head and rubbed his chin in thought. "Look at her, brother. She's young and dumb, and not in the way I've been pretending to be." He stabbed a finger at the screen. "I mean it, brother. Open your eyes and look! She's interacting with the people around her on a personal level. No Mystallian worth their _essence_ would lower themselves to that."

"A _kid?_ " demanded Fortuna, shifting her attention between them and the screen. "Our plans are being fucked up by a realm-damned _kid?"_

"Kid, adult, it doesn't matter," Clare went on. "If she's here, the others won't be far behind her! This threatens the Cause itself!"

"Only if we reveal ourselves."

Dorian had always admired Fortuna's calm under pressure, knowing how her mind had to be working at a thousand miles a second to take all this new information into consideration. He held Clare still, awaiting her final decision. As always, he wasn't kept waiting long.

"If we stick to our training and stay in the shadows, the Mystallians will never know why there are so many Earth replicas here. Only that there are. The Cause will remain intact."

Clare shook his head. "This threatens the Cause! I don't want to go into the sin-bin for all eternity!" he said, still shaking his head. "We have to call it in…"

Dorian hauled Clare away from the wall and slammed him into it again, driving him a good ten centimetres into the brickwork this time. More dust drifted down. "If Fortuna says no, it's no. End of fucking discussion. We're going to keep our heads down and wait for an opportunity to strike." He leaned close, sliding his wrist under Clare's chin against his windpipe. "And if you _ever_ try to usurp Fortuna's authority again, I _will_ fuckin' skin you alive. We might be all that's left of Abaddon, but she's still the team leader, and you _will_ remember that." He gave his brother a shove that cut off his air for a moment. "Got it?"

Clare's expression wasn't happy, but Dorian hadn't given him a choice in the matter, so he nodded. "Got it, brother. I'll stay on top of this and let you know exactly how many there are and what they're up to."

"Good." Dorian released his brother with another shove and stalked back over to the large screen. What _was_ it about this realm, he wondered, that drew unwanted visitors?

* * *

 **Thirty Years Previously**

 **In Orbit**

* * *

"Abaddon, listen up!"

Fortuna paused to eyeball the fifteen men and women of her strike team. She considered them all to be her brothers and sisters, no matter how many generations technically separated them. Each and every one of them shared the same never-sufficiently-realm-damned ancestor that they hated with every fibre of their being, and that hatred was what brought them out here to the ass-end of the Unknown Realms. It had taken a little time, but they'd managed to cobble together a realm that suited their training exercises perfectly.

Abaddon's target was the heart of Earlafaol itself; specifically the North American continent of the world called 'Earth' by its mortal residents. It was protected as few other targets in Creation were protected, but the Cause demanded that they devise a way to break through those impenetrable defences and retrieve the weapon they'd lost to Earlafaol's mistress. Should be simple, right? Just sneak in and take him back. But nothing was _ever_ that simple, which was why Fortuna and her team were out here, doing multiple dummy runs in a realm where they were entirely unlikely to be disturbed. Davin's orders before they left home had been very clear. "Don't come back until you succeed." Their eldest brother was a straight shooter like that, and he had no problem backing up his orders with a lot of pain when you failed him. Not that Fortuna had anything against the sin-bin. It served its purpose and kept everyone in line. She was just grateful that her own innate ability kept her from screwing up that often. In fact, in all the eons she'd been alive, she could only count two instances where she'd been sentenced to the sin-bin, and those who'd caused her to fail suffered just as badly but for much longer once she got out.

Her plan had been a simple one. She'd already set up a planet outwardly identical to Earlafaol's 'Earth', then meddled with the local laws of physics until reality split and warped, not once, but dozens of times. The stupid little green and blue mudball had been duplicated so many times that they could try out one attack scheme after another for years without needing to reset the realm after each exercise. And after so many years of practice, they really were getting very close to succeeding. But Fortuna knew close wasn't good enough. If the constructs they had standing in for the Pryde were not a patch on their true opponents, they couldn't risk taking on the real Pryde until they could beat these things so easily it was a joke. And until they reached that point, they couldn't go home. So they kept training.

She gestured at the planet below. "Today we'll be working with attack posture zeta-seventy-three. Rory, you, Clare and Valeria will come in hard from the north." She looked up at the burly man with black eyes, short dark hair, and a full dark beard. He had his arms folded across his barrel-wide chest in concentration, absorbing everything she said. "As soon as you get that lake in sight, light it up. The more of their young you can take out before they realise we're there, the more outraged they'll be and the easier they'll be to defeat." Rory nodded and opened his arms to hold his hands about a foot apart. A string of lightning flowed between his palms and after focusing on it for a second or two, the intensity of it increased until all of their white cloaks lifted away from their armoured bodies despite the vacuum of space, along with any hair not hidden by their helmets. "Save it, brother. Now's not the time to get cocky. If we can't beat these fucking constructs with one hand tied behind our backs, we're never going to get past the real mother-fucking Pryde." The lightning show ended abruptly.

Her eyes scanned the faces until she found who she was looking for next. "Tyrone; you, Logan, Mason and Mia will come in through the mountains to the west." Her gaze burned into Tyrone. "I'm counting on you to destroy as much of that fucking mountainside as you can. Kill everything in your path, but avoid harming the naga nest. At the end of this, we need those fuckers alive, even if we have to round 'em up and put their females in chains." Tyrone nodded in understanding.

"Oskar; you, Leon, Anna and Yuto come in from the south. Use the skins of the mortal mountaineers in those cabins here to get as close to the Prydelands as you can undetected, then hold your position until you hear the mountains shake. Once Tyrone's crew start blasting, come in with every blade in your disposal." Oskar pushed himself from all fours on to two feet and opened his rounded jaw like a hinge to expose row after row of razor sharp malleable teeth. When his forked tongue ran around his lips hungrily, it too had a serrated edge that was designed to remove flesh from skin without damaging the useful outer layer. "You'll eat soon enough. Stay on point, or I'll sin-bin you myself." Oskar dropped back on to all fours and, like his brother before, nodded in understanding of the plan.

"Nicky, Roxanne and I will come in from the east. We'll be the most exposed, but the three of us should be able to dodge our way through most of the shit they throw at us." She looked over her team again. "Remember people, we're looking for maximum damage to get the Pryde's attention, and it's not going to last long. A minute or two at best before they get their shit together and swamp us."

Again, her eyes scanned those before her and landed on her trusted second in command. "Dorian, I need you to get a bead on Trysten. The second this all blows up, you need to get in, grab that traitorous little fucker, and get out with him as fast as you can. As soon as you're clear, we'll pull back. Any questions?"

"Yeah." Clare raised his hand, then pointed past Fortuna. "What's that?"

"What's wha …" Turning, she saw what he'd indicated. Not twenty feet from them the very fabric of space-time was twisting and rupturing. Something was coming through from the celestial realm; something _huge._ And when it came through, it was even bigger than Fortuna had thought. Also, it was travelling far too fast. "Oh, fu—"

Fortuna had no way of evading the thing, so she did exactly the same as every other member of Abaddon had been trained to do. _When under attack, destroy their mind._

Like the rest of her people, Fortuna was a ranged bender, though at this short a distance even a touch bender would've sufficed. Either way, once the connection was made, mental attacks by benders were near instantaneous and sixteen ranged attacks struck the continent sized, whale-like creature, lancing through what little it could put up for a defence, and utterly destroyed all capacity for thought.

In hindsight, this was perhaps the worst move they could've made. Even as the ludicrously immense creature convulsed, its entire mental being obliterated, it was literally right on top of them with no chance for them to take even the one step necessary to realm-step out of its way. It may well have been on the point of slowing or stopping before all rational thought was destroyed, but that couldn't happen now.

The gigantic biological meteor smashed into Abaddon and drove them all headlong into the planet below. Carried along helplessly, with no time to devise a plan of escape, Fortuna saw the ground approaching fast.

 _This is gonna hurt._

* * *

 **Nineteen Years Previously**

 **The Realm of Earlafaol; Earth; North America; Prydelands**

* * *

Zeus hated feeling indebted to anyone. He was the ruler of his own realm, the supreme ruler of Olympus. People owed _him_ debts. Often, for his assistance, he was able to extract boons from others to get those few things he was unable to accomplish for himself. It was good to be the one in charge.

Only, he wasn't in charge here. But the sting of not calling the shots was somewhat mitigated by the fact that the de facto ruler of the Prydelands (and thus the entire realm of Earlafaol) was not in the habit of holding anything over the heads of anyone who needed something from her. She gave without demanding the exchange of something of equal or greater value, which was an unheard of trait amongst the celestials. That, and the knowledge that the infants he held would be well treated despite their hybrid background, was the only reason he'd opened a bloodlink here in the first place. "So, you'll take them?" he asked, focusing his attention on the answer to his question and not on the very formal library in which he stood.

"Of course," replied the woman with the long black hair that almost reached the ground and matching obsidian eyes standing opposite him. He knew that she got her looks from her father; by contrast, her mother was of his bloodline. She was almost as tall as him but she got her slender, almost dainty build from her mother. A warrior she wasn't; unlike others in her family. However, she didn't need to be physically impressive. She had others to do that for her, and they did it spectacularly well. The peregrine falcon (which he well knew was no falcon at all) that rode on her shoulder and cocked its head at him as if it knew his thoughts was but one example. "Thank you for bringing them to me. I will ensure they know of their heritage, once they are of an age to understand it."

A gesture from her brought a pair of servants forth to relieve him of the children. They'd been the result of a passing whim; a mortal woman of impressive beauty had caught his eye, and he'd indulged himself. She'd gotten pregnant by him, which was where things became problematic. Children of the gods tended to be venerated by the mortals around them, but were despised by the celestials. Hybrids, as a rule, didn't live long. His own bastard offspring even less so, given Hera's vengeful nature. Even as ruler of Olympus, he would not have been able to flout her will for long without spending every moment hovering over them. Normally, as in eons past, he would've simply shrugged and let nature take its course. But he'd liked their mother and in a moment of weakness, had promised to see to their well-being. Before Earlafaol, that would've been impossible. Now, it seemed, anything was possible.

"Just so long as they don't get it into their heads to come back to Olympus and try to overthrow me," he said, only half-jokingly as he passed the sleeping bundles over to the two women. With his arms now free, he lifted his right hand and rolled it in a half circle that ended on his hip. "Hephaestus!" he called.

The blood-link formed in an instant, the ugly features of his son filling the space between him and Lady Col. The smears of soot and dirt on Hephaestus' face didn't improve his appearance in the slightest, but Zeus didn't care. The tremendous forge beneath the volcano turned out many useful items for the court of Olympus, after all.

"Until our paths cross again, Lord Zeus," the petite woman called through the image as Zeus reached for Hephaestus' hand.

"Your health, Lady Col," he replied in farewell, then clasped the blacksmith's calloused paw and stepped through the bloodlink. As it closed behind him, he let the tension sag out of him with a tiny sigh.

"Father." Hephaestus acknowledged him with a brief nod. "Do I need t'know what that wuz about?"

"Not in the slightest," Zeus replied, releasing his son's hand. "And if your mother asks …"

One of Hephaestus' misshapen shoulders lifted in a half-shrug. "I wuz workin' in me forge all day. Didn't hear nuthin', didn't see nuthin'."

"Good boy." Zeus clapped his son on the shoulder on the way out of the forge. The hard part was over. Now he just had to weather the storm of Hera's anger.

It wasn't like he hadn't done _that_ a million times already.

* * *

 **Eighteen Years Later**

 **The Realm of Earlafaol; Earth; North America; New York City**

 **The Apartment of Sagun and Edeena Hawthorn**

* * *

Racing Edeena up the fire escape, Sagun got to the window first. They'd left it locked, but he focused his will upon it and it obediently unlocked itself and slid open. Climbing in, he let out his pent-up emotions in a gust of laughter. Stepping aside to let Edeena follow him in, he pulled off his mask. Like the rest of his costume, it was a bright gold in colour. "Wow, what a rush!"

"Holy shit, yes!" Edeena burbled, pushing the window shut again. "Why we waited for so long to go out in costume, I have _no_ idea!" In contrast to his costume, hers was all silver.

"We _rocked_ out there." Sagun gestured to the curtains and they closed over the window. "Did you see the look on that mugger's face?"

"Or the cop, when we handed him over?" Edeena reached out and flicked on the light … then froze.

Across the apartment, seated in Sagun's favourite armchair, was a stranger. A woman in a business suit with short red hair and a jacket ostensibly hanging open to reveal a pair of holstered guns in a double shoulder holster. A badge was clipped to her belt. Sagun wasn't close enough to read the inscription on it, but he knew one thing; no matter what it said, it was bad news for them.

"Who are you?" he snapped, preparing to defend them with his power. In an instant, if he had to, he could cause the armchair to sprout tentacles and fasten the intruder in place. "What are you doing in our apartment?"

"Well _clearly_ I'm not waiting for a pizza," the woman shot back with an indifferent sneer as she rose and buttoned her jacket. This didn't seem to make her look any less dangerous. "I'm here for you two show-boating knuckleheads. As for who my name … I'm Agent Nascerdios of the FBI. But that's just one of the many hats I wear." The name-drop, she didn't have to say, was to drive home to them exactly how screwed they were if she did want to make things official. Quite apart from the FBI, _everyone_ knew of the Nascerdios family. Their wealth and power in the global scheme of things put them on par with God.

"Okay …" Edeena said cautiously after a moment. "If you're talking about other hats, that means you're not here to arrest us. So, why _are_ you here?" Sagun hadn't thought that far ahead, but he realised that she was correct. Edeena always had been the smarter of the two.

"Because you two idiots have caused a hell of a stir on the streets. In just a few hours people are whispering about the pair of masked crusaders who are taking on street crime using inhuman abilities." She rolled her eyes. "Really? Goldstar and Silverbolt? Did you two clowns actually _want_ anyone to take you seriously?"

"Doesn't it worry you that what they say might be true?" Sagun asked, lifting his chin in challenge. Nascerdios or not, he was certain his power gave him the upper hand.

The woman looked at him as if he'd grown a second head (something he could actually do) and snorted dismissively. "Honey, the day I'm scared of the likes of you, is the day I march back into the Well of Hell and tell Belial and the every one of his sons what they can go do with themselves."

The two siblings looked at each other pensively; a move that was a move not lost on the armed woman. Sagun only had the vaguest idea of what she was talking about, but he was beginning to get the impression that they were in more trouble than they'd previously imagined. "Oh, so _now_ you two morons start thinking with more than your egos," the woman drawled, dropping her hands on to her hips. "A day late and a dollar short."

"Lady Col sent you, didn't she?" Edeena asked, edging her way over to where her brother still sat on the lounge.

A slow, almost mocking golf-clap followed her. "Close, but if my sister was involved, she'd still be making excuses for your sorry asses." The clapping stopped and the woman's hands found her hips again. "Newsflash. I don't play by those rules. I'm more of a shock and awe kinda gal."

Sagun blinked. "Wait, you're Lady Col's _sister?"_ He stared at her. If he ignored the red hair, there did seem to be a certain amount of family resemblance to the woman they'd called 'Lady Col' all their lives.

"Oh, quick on the uptake, aren'cha?" Agent Nascerdios jeered.

"So … what _are_ you doing here?"

The woman gestured at the window and by inference the street outside. "The little stunts you've been pulling all evening have got you pissing in a lot of people's pools and no one's happy about it. Do you really think it's a coincidence that none of the mortals here have ever had any confirmation of the powers that really control the universe?"

Sagun and Edeena looked at each other. "So, are we going to super hero prison or something?" he asked.

The FBI agent closed her eyes and tapped two fingers into her forehead over her nose. "I am going to take every last one of those fucking comics of yours and jam them one by one up your fucking asses if I hear one more realm-damned comic book reference out of either one of you. I swear on the Twin Notes of all existence …"

"Well, how else do you explain what we can do?" Edeena asked, earnestly. "We can change shape, _and_ change the shape of others …!"

The tapping against her forehead increased. "Now I know how Dad felt," she murmured under her breath, shaking her head. She then dropped her hand to her side and fixed them with a ruthless glare. "It's called shifting, you idiot, and you pair are a long way from the only ones that can do it. Okay?"

"Can you?" challenged Sagun. They'd never met anyone else who could do what they could. What were the odds that this pushy government agent, or whatever she was, could really match them?

With slowly dawning horror, he watched as she did just that. The empty coffee mug he'd left on the side table near his elbow folded downwards and changed into a white rectangular packet of Rothmans cigarettes. Hastily, he brought his own powers to bear. _She won't be so smug when I turn them right back._ But concentrate as he might, his power just skidded over the cigarette packet. Agent Nascerdios watched him with a sardonic smirk, and he realised that she knew exactly what he was trying to do. She'd also known all along that he'd try to show her up, and she hadn't said a word, just to drive it home to him that her power outmatched his.

The cigarette packet opened without aid and a single cigarette pulled itself free and flew across the room into the woman's outstretched hand. As if she'd done it a hundred times before, she placed the cigarette between her lips, then snapped her fingers to create a small fire from their tips and puffed the flame through the cigarette as if she was holding up a lighter. "You might say that," she said, shaking out her fingers and breathing a stream of smoke into the ceiling.

"They say smoking will kill you," observed Edeena tentatively.

"I'd like to see it try." The woman flicked her eyebrows as if the idea amused her.

Sagun didn't find her funny at all. "So what happens now?"

"Now, you two get brought up to speed on exactly what you are, and exactly why we're all keeping our heads down for the foreseeable future." She took another drag on her cigarette and breathed out the lungful of smoke without ever taking the cigarette from her lips. "No more molly-coddling you two twits." She gestured to the empty seat beside Sagun. "Sit down," she commanded of Edeena. She then hooked her foot under the coffee table and dragged it closer to them once Edeena had parked herself alongside her brother. "Okay, for starters, you two aren't thinking big enough. Super _humans_ are for amateurs. You two have divinity flowing in your veins."

Sagun looked at Edeena again, waiting for her to interpret what that meant to them. The way Edeena's eyes flared with realisation, he knew his academically inclined sister had heard something he'd missed. "What, like we're gods?"

"Hybrids, actually, but yeah. Your dad's a god." She took a third drag. "Pretty substantial one, too. Hung around a lot with my old man back in the day, and they're still pretty tight. Have you two ever heard of Hercules?"

"Son of Zeus. Greek mythology," Edeena answered, parroting an encyclopedia. She was always more into that stuff. Sagun preferred his comics.

"To you two, he has a different title."

"What, 'dad'?' Sagun jeered with a snort.

"No, wise-ass. You two get to call him 'brother'."

Edeena's jaw just about fell into her lap. Sagun didn't see what the big deal was. "Zeus is our _father_?" she screeched in excitement. She turned and shook Sagun's arm. "The god Zeus is our father!"

In Sagun's eyes, that still didn't outdo Superman or the Fantastic Four. But, since Edeena was happy, he decided not to burst her bubble just yet. "And what does that mean to us?"

"Well, since he dumped your asses here, I'm guessing he wants nothing more to do with you."

Edeena's bubbling enthusiasm collapsed like a balloon to a dart.

"I'm guessing tact's not in your repertoire either," Sagun scowled, placing a comforting hand on his sister's arm.

The woman shrugged. "Depends on the situation. You two have pissed me off, so you're not getting any slack outta me. Putting it simply, your bullshit antics are going to get us noticed, and we can't have that. So you two have a choice to make."

"Here it comes," Sagun whispered with deliberate volume and maybe an accompanying eyeroll.

"Don't push it," the woman warned, twisting her lips to one side. An impressive feat since she still had the cigarette in her mouth. "No one'll miss you if you were to suddenly vanish … one way or the other."

That sounded suspiciously like a threat to Sagun. For a moment, he wondered if it was deliberate, then decided that of course it was. "So what's our choices?"

"Stay here. Keep your heads down and your noses clean. Live a long, potentially eternal life doing _only_ what the mortals around you can do."

Well, that seemed lame to Sagun. "What's our other option?"

"I take you to the edge of the realm. Show you how to realm-step … and boot your asses to the curb." She pushed the rest of the cigarette in her mouth and chewed it up, making a show of swallowing it as effortlessly as a mouthful of water. "If you pick option two, there's no coming back. The Pryde constantly patrol the borders, and they'll kill anything celestial that tries to sneak in uninvited."

Sagun seized on the name. "And the Pryde are?"

"Not to be fucked with."

Sagun looked at Edeena, who was still shell-shocked. "How long have we got to think about it?"

The woman stretched out her arm and rolled her wrist to look at the watch that probably cost more than Sagun would make in a decade if the gold and diamond embellishments were anything to go by. "Well, _Tron_ is opening in the Garden in a few minutes and I've been looking forward to seeing that. So I suppose I can give you till the end of the movie to make up your mind." She rose to her feet and dusted her hands, as if she hadn't just dumped the world on its ear for them. "Oh, and don't try to run. If I have to hunt your sorry tails down, I _will_ find you before dawn, and then you _really_ won't like what happens next." She extended her jaw like something out of a horror movie, then grew a set of fangs that wouldn't have looked out of place on an angler fish. Somehow, even with that insane dentition, she was able to talk normally. "Capisce?"

"What if we contact Lady Col?" He was grasping at straws, but Lady Col had always looked out for them.

The woman's face returned to normal and she shrugged again. "The rules aren't changing anytime soon, chuckles. If you stay, you keep your heads down just like the rest of us. If you want to try your luck out there, I'm the one to arrange that too." As she made her way to the front door, she yanked it open and paused in the doorway. "I'll let you know if the movie's worth going to see, or if it's total shit. In case you choose to stay." And with that, she was gone.

"Did that really just happen?" Sagun asked, looking at his sister with the hope that this was some demented dream.

"Yeah," Edeena answered, the first word she'd spoken since being told their father didn't care for them. Sagun had always thought that was the case, which was why he buried himself in his comic books, even going as far as to pick up a job at the local comic store where he could get them at wholesale. Edeena was a totally different stripe of cat, mentally speaking. She'd always hung on to the belief that their father was just waiting in the shadows for her to prove herself, and once she had, he'd come swooping in like a white knight to carry her away. So she'd studied, and had studied hard. Sometimes he wondered which one of them had the wilder imagination.

"What do you want to do?" They both asked the question at the same time, then laughed hollowly. "You first," Sagun said, always the gentleman.

"I don't know," Edeena replied. "I mean, is there any point to any of this, if it's all meaningless?"

Sagun decided to throw out a hypothetical. "What if we left?"

"What?"

"I'm serious. What if we left? If it's a rule here that we have to conform to bullshit normality, what's the point of being here? If we left, we could do anything. _Be_ anything. We could be…we could be …" His eyes searched the many wall posters for suggestions. "We could be bigger than Galactus!"

"But there's going to be dangers out there too. Dangers we have no way of being prepared for …"

Sagun slapped the box of sealed comics he had under the side table. One of dozens of boxes he had scattered all over the apartment. "If we can be anything, I'm pretty sure I've got that covered. There's not much that hasn't been explored in a comic somewhere, and I've pretty much read them all." His eyes shone as the possibilities raced through his head.

"But if we leave, we can never come back."

"So we'll make another world just like Earth. Come _on_ , Edeena! We can _do anything_!"

"You've already made up your mind, haven't you?"

Sagun hadn't wanted to admit it, but yeah, he had. "You think I want to spend the rest of eternity working at Forbidden Planet? When I can _be_ …" He stood up and puffed his chest, his imagination running wild. "… _The_. Forbidden. Planet?"

A cushion hit him in the side of the head, knocking him sideways and detracting from his moment of envisioned glory. "You're such an idiot."

Sagun plopped into the couch, laughing. "I've got ninety minutes to convince you to come with me. I don't think it'll take that long."

* * *

 **Empty Space**

 **At the Edge of the Realm of Earlafaol**

 **Three Hours Later**

* * *

At any other time, Sagun would've called the view spectacular. Behind them, a mass of galaxies spread across the sky, too many to count. Before them, more galaxies. To the left and right, up and down, there was a noticeable divide. It wasn't _empty,_ but the points of light were significantly farther away. He could well believe he was standing on the border between two realms.

"I still can't believe you talked me into this," grumbled Edeena.

"I can," Agent Nascerdios said dryly. Against all accepted laws of physics, she was smoking a cigarette in the vacuum of space. Sagun wasn't quite sure where the smoke was going. "You two are joined at the hip. Where one goes, the other follows. I've seen it before. Seen it end in tragedy too, but it keeps happening." She took the cigarette out of her mouth and ashed it, more for show than because she needed to. "You know how to realm-step now. The Known Realms are that way." She gestured over an arc with her arm. "Don't go there. You'll be killed just for being what you are. Everywhere else, knock yourself out. Carve yourselves out a realm, set yourself up as lords over all, I don't care. Just don't come back to Earlafaol."

"Fine." Sagun turned to Edeena and took her hand. "Let's get out of this dump. We can do better on our own, anyway."

She took a deep breath. "Yeah. Let's do this."

Together, they stepped up into the celestial realm, taking care to move away from Earlafaol. Down into the mortal realm. Up again. Down again. After the first step, Agent Nascerdios was no longer in sight, but nothing else seemed to change. Travelling this way, Sagun realised, was going to take them a very long time to get anywhere.

"Wait a minute," he said as they stepped up into the celestial realm once more. "We're doing this wrong."

"Wrong?" asked Edeena. "After all the effort you went to, to convince me to come along, you'd better not be having second thoughts now."

"No, no," he said, shaking his head for emphasis. "We're walking when we could be flying."

"What, like this?" she asked, drawing on the ground beneath them for mass. A moment later, great silvery wings unfurled from her back. Experimentally, she flapped them a few times, lifting into the air.

"Wow, I say 'flight' and you go straight to bird wings," he said with a roll of his eyes. "I was thinking of something a bit more superheroic. More high-tech."

"Hawkman's wings are high-tech," she pointed out smugly.

Loftily, he ignored her comment. Using his shifting, he drew on the ground beneath them as well. The construction that formed on his back was far different from her wings. It was streamlined, with fins and blast nozzles. To match the rest of his costume, it was a burnished gold in colour.

"A _jetpack,"_ she said with a snort. "How very comic book nerd of you."

"You'll be laughing on the other side of your face when I leave you in my dust," he said with a cocky smirk.

"Oh, really," she challenged. "You and what …"

Grabbing the control handles, Sagun triggered the jetpack and blasted into the air. Distantly, he heard her yell "Hey!" behind him, but he didn't care. He was laughing too hard.

His jetpack let him stay ahead of her until it ran out of fuel; when he landed, she overtook him. It didn't matter now. They were venturing into the Unknown Realms in _style._

Agent Nascerdios could _suck_ it.

* * *

 **Nearly Ten Months Later**

* * *

A high pitched roar shook the rock walls until large boulders crashed to the ground. Edeena was huddled in a ball with her hands over her head and it was all Sagun could do not to join her. But he wouldn't let himself. It was his fault they were in this predicament, not because of anything they'd done, but because he'd talked his sister into coming with him. Stretching his arms over his head, he shifted his upper body into a thick blanket which he used to dampen the sound of the thing outside. There was little he could do about the way it pounded at the planet in frustration. They hadn't been doing anything, except flying through space, when this thing had blindsided them. It was huge! Easily the size of Manhattan. Maybe even New York itself! With grey skin and more horns and teeth and pointy bits protruding from its hide, they were barely the size of a pea to it and should have been swallowed whole. And they would've been, if his knowledge of comic books and science fiction movies— _thank you, Star Wars_ —hadn't told him that the volcano-sized opening underneath them was in fact a massive mouth, with rows and rows of jagged teeth.

He'd grabbed his sister's arm, and they'd cut through into the mortal realm. But that rhino-shaped monstrosity followed them. They'd stepped to and from the realms in the hopes of losing it, but it kept coming, like it could sense their divinity and wanted it more than anything else in existence.

Finally, Sagun hid them deep beneath the crust of a planet. Long ago, he'd learned what that FBI agent had been trying to tell them. That unlike the celestial realm, things weren't actively trying to kill you in the mortal realm, and would even go out of their way to keep you alive. Hence this cave-like room that floated in the middle of what should have been the planet's molten core. And the thing out there wasn't happy that it couldn't find them. It felt like the whole planet was shifting on its axis from its blows.

Edeena sobbed with every blow, causing Sagun to regret ever bringing her out into this. Hadn't the agent warned them? " _I've seen this end in tragedy too_ ," she'd said. Suddenly, working the rest of eternity in the comic shop didn't seem so bad.

 _It's gonna be alright,_ he mentally promised his sister, using his blanket half to hold her close.

Three days was how long it took that monstrosity to give up and leave them alone. Three of the longest, most scary days of his life. Sagun filtered the cave to give them fresh air to breathe and food to eat, though Edeena hardly touched a bite.

And then the beast left. Just to be on the safe side, Sagun kept them in the cave bubble for another week, but when the seventh day ticked over and the world hadn't so much as hiccupped, he realm-stepped into the planet's orbit to investigate.

The world was a wreck. Floating high above, he could see where the beast had punched and gored holes in the crust that should have shattered the planet. It seemed only his and Edeena's determination to survive had kept the fragile husk together. He hoped there hadn't been any people living on the surface. If there had, there weren't anymore. _Oops. Well, not my fault. Not really._

Three steps later had him back beside his sister. "It's gone, baby," he said, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and cried. He dropped his chin on to her head and cuddled her close. "And this whole planet's gonna blow just as soon as we leave."

"How can we fight something like that?" she sobbed. "It's too big!"

Sagun looked at the molten core around them. "We just have to get bigger," he declared. "This planet's a goner anyway, so we'll take its mass. We'll be even bigger than Galactus. And then things like that won't ever be able to touch us again. _Nothing_ will ever be able to touch us again." He pulled her face away from his chest and looked her in the eyes. " _We'll_ be the ones to splut _it_ , not the other way around. 'kay?"

Still teary-eyed, Edeena nodded. "'kay."

Unfortunately, neither of them really understood how biology worked and they didn't have an elder to teach them how to use their divinity to offset physical limitations. So by the time they'd subsumed a large portion of the planet, their human forms were a thing of the past. Edeena hadn't liked that part of their evolution, but once Sagun showed her how they could create flesh puppets of themselves to act through (provided they kept the puppet tethered to them), she began to warm to the idea. The huge slug form was for travel. For safety. For protection. Like the armour of a tank or battle cruiser. It wasn't the real them. She finally came around when he promised her that once they set themselves up in a realm (however one went about doing that), they could return to their former selves.

Now gigantic, the two space whales set out once more, undulating through the cosmos together.

* * *

 **A Month Later**

* * *

"Whoa," breathed Sagun. His puppet avatar stood atop his whale-fin, next to where Edeena's puppet stood atop hers. "Will you look at that."

Edeena tilted her head to one side. "How does that even work? One celestial realm, but there's dozens of mortal realms, stacked together like the pages of a book. And they all kind of look like Earth."

"Answer: there's a lot of weird shit out here in the Unknown Realm," Sagun stated with absolute authority. "But this is _perfect_ for us. I mean, check it out. We can set up superhero worlds in parallel, have crossover events, alternate universe doubles, absolutely everything we ever wanted to do. And we'll be the absolute most kickass heroes in any universe we're in. The Superman and Captain Mar-Vell of our universes. Other superheroes will be lining up to get autographs from _us."_

Edeena blinked. "Wow. That does sound … amazing." She turned her beaming gaze on her brother. "But how are we going to give other people powers? It's not like we can go out and invite other celestials here. From what that Agent Nascerdios said, they'd probably try to kill us."

"I've been thinking about that," he replied. "You know how she showed us how to make constructs in the celestial realm before we left Earlafaol?"

"She also said that would only work if we were 'attuned' to a place, and that takes time," Edeena pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said impatiently. "But if we decided to get attuned to a small area … you know, just the local star cluster … then it would happen pretty quickly. Then all we'd have to do is put down constructs in the celestial realm and imbue them with powers that people could use to be superheroes with. _Then_ we set it up so people get powers. Voila, our own superhero story for as long as we want to play with it."

"Well, we have to make sure that some of the powers are dark and creepy, otherwise we'll have really boring supervillains," Edeena mused. Then her eyes widened. "Hey. Maybe we could set it up so their state of mind has a say in how the power turns out."

"Ooh, I like it." Sagun offered her a high-five. "And with multiple worlds to draw on, we can do doomsday events and everything. People from a dying world shot to a new one to become heroes, and all that stuff."

Edeena nodded. "Oh, heck yes."

Carefully, they marked out the boundaries for where they wanted their attunement to run to. Given how difficult Agent Nascerdios had said setting up a realm was, Sagun found it fairly easy. He just followed the boundary line that was already there.

* * *

 **Four Weeks Later**

* * *

"Done." Standing once more on the fin of his hovering space whale, Sagun dusted his hands off and admired their handiwork. The surface of the celestial realm below them was covered in crystals of all sizes. Some were linked to Sagun's body and thus his celestial capabilities, while others were linked to Edeena. He'd had an absolute ball making up the most weird and wonderful powersets to give to people, and he seriously looked forward to seeing what the mortals did with them.

"Holy shit, I think this is really going to work," Edeena agreed. "So what do we do now?"

"Well, we want to set up alternates," Sagun said. "So we each go into a different world and set ourselves up in it. Once we're sure we're set up the way we want, we blood-link each other and compare what we've done. Then we can start giving out powers."

"Cool." Edeena's eyes sparkled, then the corner of her mouth crept up mischievously. "Though I have to wonder, what _is_ that fuzz on your face?"

"It's a beard," he replied with dignified affront. "If I'm going to be their most powerful hero, I need to look the part. A beard is mature. Manly."

She snorted. "More like a dead ferret stapled to your face."

"Hey! Don't diss the beard!"

"Make it look more like an actual beard and I won't."

" _Fine_." He rolled his eyes, but his facial hair reshaped itself. "Better?"

She put her hand over her mouth, but her eyes danced with mirth. "Now it's a dead skunk."

He glowered at her, then tried again. "Okay, how's this?"

Opening her mouth, she paused. "Yeah … that's actually much better."

"Good." He thrust out his chin and deepened his voice. "Rejoice … for Sagun has arrived among you."

Half-turning her head, she gave him side-eye. "You're just going to use your real name? Whatever happened to a mask and a secret identity?"

He gestured; the costume vanished and his skin turned gold. "Who needs it? We're gods now."

"Whoa, hey!" she shielded her eyes. "I did _not_ need to see your junk!"

"Sorry." Pants were quickly added to his ensemble. "Anyway, let's whale up and go pick a world each."

She shook her head pityingly. "'Whale up.' Sometimes I worry about you." But she reabsorbed her avatar into the mass of her main body. Seconds later, he did the same. Flukes pushing strongly against nothingness, they swam forward and dived into the mortal realm, each to their own world.

* * *

 **Three Days After the Impact**

 **Contessa**

* * *

The crater was vast, filled by a huge twitching mass of flesh. One small part of it, quite near the edge, was twitching more than normal. The twitching gave way to a minor upheaval, and then the sharp tip of a claw poked through and sliced across. Hands reached out of the gap and sawed through the surface layer to make the opening larger. Nearly a minute later, Fortuna dragged herself into the open air. Or rather, _some_ of her.

She was a _mess._ The toughest and strongest of her brethren, even with all of her self-shifting at her disposal, she had barely survived the impact. In fact, her body was simply _gone_ from the waist down; an injury that would've killed any mortal. Determined not to lose by dying, she accepted the loss of her lower half, sealed the wounds shut, and kept going. All the while, swearing up a storm at how badly she would destroy whatever had the audacity to ambush her team.

If her shifting had been more versatile, she would've been able to touch-shift the ground to become part of her body and thus become whole once more. But the only way for her to gain more mass was to eat it and the tremendous weight of flesh above her was too tough to bite into. So she had to crawl out, inch by agonizing inch.

As soon as she was out from under the crushing mass, she swiftly reshaped her body to that of a child of that weight. Nine or ten years old, she gauged. Not that it mattered. Shifting her metabolism to that of a hummingbird meant in short order, she'd be back to her full height. She was about to do that, when she noticed the slug's body was attempting to salvage something of itself. In the distance, she saw an avatar of sorts that it could pour all of its celestial energy into, just as she had done, before the final flicker of death took their light. "Oh, fuck no!" she snarled, extruding a claw from her hand once more. This thing was not going to live. No fucking way.

Clambering across the misshapen flesh forest, she found its mind may be ash, but self-preservation of the body was still there and even now, it was forcing a superior shape-shift against her in self-defence. Her own body seized in fits and starts as it instinctively knew enough to keep her away from the vital seat of its consciousness. Not that it was going to stop her. Her team was dead and she'd be sent into the sin-bin for centuries for their loss. But she'd see this thing _disappeared_ first.

She was so intent on her new mission, that she failed to hear someone coming up behind her until she heard a woman's voice in the language of the local worlds. She'd never bothered learning it, but now she turned her head until she saw the speaker—a dark-skinned woman—and went into the woman's memories to see what she'd wanted her to hear. "Do you need help?" the replay asked, after she'd spent a few hours of learning her language.

A sly, cruel smile worked its way across Fortuna's face. The timing of the woman's arrival was nothing short of brilliant, since the shape-shifting shithead couldn't tag both of them at once. On top of that, the woman hadn't noticed her hand had a huge claw sticking out of it. Once again, Fortuna fist pumped her innate ability that always found a way to look out for her … most of the time.

Fortuna returned to the physical realm and immediately reshaped her hand, subtly redistributing mass so that she held a short-bladed knife. Feigning ignorance of her language in the beginning, Fortuna used a combination of gestures and incoherent grunts to convince the woman to assist her.

With both hands on the knife, the blade plunged home, right where Fortuna's innate luck told her to strike. Without a mind to rebuild from, leaving the blade embedded in the avatar prevented the abomination from interfering with things, but didn't quite kill her. Given how determined she'd been to end it, she cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. Her innate ability had only incapacitated it? Why? Dead was the objective. Not incapacitated. Unless keeping it alive served a future purpose.

Fortuna hadn't lived this long by not trusting her innate ability. So for now, it would live. For now. Looking once again at her 'saviour', Fortuna dove back into the woman's mind, wanting to know where she came from. That was when she noticed that the female had stumbled through a portal from another one of the worlds. Through the eyes of a celest, Fortuna wanted to facepalm. The mortal world had sensed the imminent death of multiple celestials and opened portals to try and save them. Not where they would be useful … like right in front of where they were all falling ...!

Despite being deep inside the woman's mind, Fortuna closed her eyes and breathed out a frustrated sigh. She could see the intent of the woman, even though nothing had been said yet about what would happen now. The woman saw her as a young child. The child she portrayed. And she wanted her to come back with her, feeling this would forever haunt her or some nonsense.

She thought about her options. If she contacted Davin, she'd be sent to the sin-bin. Her innate luck had made the death strike against the celest an incapacitating one. And now this woman wanted her to go to her home world. The sin-bin was always going to be in her future. Failure wasn't tolerated, and this whole mission was now a categorical failure. But her innate ability was nudging her in a different direction. As always, when the odds were stacked in favour of her innate ability, she followed her instincts.

Returning again to the physical realm, Fortuna gave the woman what she hoped was an innocent smile as she held her hand out. The realms only knew how long it'd been since she was a fucking kid.

* * *

 **One Day Later**

* * *

The heavy pulse of an incoming blood-link against the inside of her brain drew Fortuna out of her deep sleep. She had no idea who was trying to contact her, but if it was Davin, she needed to answer _now._ Sitting up in bed, she cast a stimulation wave and recreated her armour complete with helmet before accepting the call. "Yes?"

The image that formed before her was as welcome as it was unexpected. Dorian! Sturdy, dependable Dorian! The brother and trusted second in command that she never thought she'd ever lay eyes on again, stood with the landscape of the flesh garden behind him. In view of the link, with Dorian's hand on his shoulder, was Clare. "Fortuna!" Dorian burst out. "You're alive! You're …" He blinked, his eyes dropping the length of her tiny body and back again. "… a kid?"

"Don't fucking remind me," grumbled Fortuna. The woman, whom she'd nicknamed 'Mother' because Fortuna had no memories of her real mother, had insisted on caring for her, not simply casting her off once they got back to her world. If she was to re-age herself to adulthood, she'd have to get rid of the woman, and she had no desire to throw away a useful mortal tool just yet. Besides, on sifting through the memories of the celestial she'd killed, she had acquired one important fact.

There was another one. Here. On the world that 'Mother' called home.

'Mother' was out at the moment, so Fortuna grasped Dorian's hand with her left and flicked the fingertips of her right hand at Clare. Without a word, Clare took her hand and in a single step, went from the crash site to standing alongside his sister and field commander. Dorian quickly followed suit. Both stared at the unexpected palatial surroundings.

"Okay, I'm impressed," Dorian said. "Where are we?"

"'Earth' number four," Clare answered, his psychic abilities already filling him in.

"Okay," Dorian accepted the fact easily. "And how in the realms did you end up here?"

"Long story," Fortuna said. "Mortal allies can be useful, especially as fronts in a new world. How did you two survive?"

"We nearly didn't," Dorian said. "Took us this long to wake up and crawl out."

"Were there any other survivors?" Both Dorian and Clare shook their heads. "Fuck."

Breathing heavily, Clare dragged his lips between his teeth so hard he broke the skin. "So, do we go home and face the music?" It seemed her brothers had worked out their future as quickly as she had, and none of them were looking forward to it.

Fortuna shook her head. "Not yet. We've still got a job to do."

"What job?" asked Clare. "There's no way we can mount a serious attack on the Prydelands and hope to beat it with only three of us."

"I didn't say it was for the Cause." Fortuna put a snap into her voice. "This is revenge. Our brothers and sisters lie dead under that thing and it's got a partner. Here. The arrogant little fucker is on this planet … OUR planet, and he's arranging matters to his satisfaction like he owns the place! Well, no, on all fronts. It's ours! His partner fucked us up, so now we're going to fuck him so hard up the ass he'll never fucking land."

"And how are we going to do that?" asked Dorian, leaning forward slightly. The light of battle in his eye made it clear he really wanted to know. Revenge after all, was at the core of the Cause.

Fortuna smiled. "Well, you see, he wants to make a world of superheroes." To save time, she pushed them both into Clare's mind and started a slide-show to explain what she'd learned in the last twenty-four hours. It was as inexplicable to them as it had been to her, but it was a handle on the intruding celestial and thus they were on board with it.

"And how does this help us?" asked Clare, once she was done.

"The fucker has altered physics to make it easy to get super-powers," Fortuna explained. "Back on the last world, there were people who'd mutated into monsters, probably from inhaling tiny particles of the celest that crashed. If we cut the bitch up and feed her to people, people _we_ choose …"

Dorian got it first. "They get powers and we get to stick it to the motherfucker," he exclaimed. "Desecrating his bitch and feeding her piece by piece to the dumb-ass fucking mortals here." He shook his head in amazement. "Fuck _me,_ that's brutal. I fuckin' love it."

Clare grinned wide, the flames in his eye-sockets flaring brightly. "Fuck, yeah. Count me in."

"Wait," Dorian said. "How do we explain me and Clare to your mortal minions?"

Fortuna shrugged. The answer was delightfully easy. "I'll just say you're the first two I tried it on."

"Fuck yes," Clare said. "Let's _do_ this thing."

Fortuna reached around her neck and undid a thin chain from under her armour. Her brothers did likewise. Each of them produced a gold ring that hung on the chain over their hearts. "This'll probably cost us another few decades in the sin-bin," Clare warned, eyeing the simple piece of gold that would completely cut them off from everyone back home and each other.

"Fuck it," both Dorian and Fortuna replied simultaneously, and then all three slipped the seclusion ring on to their finger.

* * *

 **Eighteen Months Later**

* * *

Sagun sighed in satisfaction. He'd adjusted the world to suit his needs. It was primed for the emergence of super-powers. All he needed now was to check in with Edeena and they could go with Operation Super-Powers. Flourishing his hand to create a blood-link, he proclaimed, "Edeena!"

There was no answer.

"Edeena!" he repeated, gesturing to open a blood-link. Again, silence.

"Edeena!" A third time, nothing happened.

He realm-stepped then, into the celestial realm and then into the next world over. Again, he tried to blood-link to her. It _should_ work anywhere, but maybe things worked differently here.

There was still no answer.

From world to world he stepped, calling out for her ever more desperately. When he came to the end of the chain, he started back again. This time, he searched each world carefully, randomly interrogating the natives to see if they'd heard of a brilliant silver lady with magnificent powers.

None of them had.

His search was fruitless; at one point, he flew over a carefully camouflaged dome set in the desert without even noticing it. He pushed himself ever more harshly, searching every world for a third time, then scouring the boundaries of the realm in case she was somewhere out in space.

She wasn't.

In fact, Edeena was nowhere to be found.

On the world he designated Earth Bet, he came to a hover over the Atlantic Ocean. Sadness radiated from him, because never would he cease grieving for his lost sister, the only person he considered kin. With nothing else to do, he carried out his part of the plan to award powers to people in honour of her memory, though his heart wasn't in it anymore. He was numb with grief.

It wasn't until much, much later that he learned some of the powers were connecting from the dulled crystals that Edeena had put into place.

* * *

 **Present Day**

 **Fortuna**

* * *

"So what are we going to do about the Mystallian cow?" asked Dorian. "Do we kill her?"

"Yes! Oh, yes. We sooo could," Clare insisted, rubbing his hands together in delight.

Fortuna shook her head. She was over the coughing fit by now. "No. Even the fucking Triumvirate wouldn't be able to get the better of her if she saw them coming."

"I'm not talking about the pawns! We could do it! Three on one! Dogpile the bitch!" When Fortuna shook her head, Clare's brow arched upwards and his shoulders slumped. "Whhhhyyyy?" he whined.

Dorian slapped him in the back of the head, hard enough to force Clare forward two steps and almost drive him to his knees. It saved Fortuna the trouble.

"Right now, it's only one. If the others know she's here, they're going to expect regular reports, and if they don't get them, they're going to come looking to find out why. I'm not giving up on Scion that easily. We're finally starting to get everything to the point where we can start turning his creations against him, and I'm not going to blow it and the Cause just because you want to murder one of the Mystallian kids and bring the wrath of everything down around our ears." Her smile grew dangerous. "No, I think we can use this situation to our benefit."

"How?" Dorian asked. He wasn't asking in doubt of her, but clarification.

"Because how delicious would it be if the Mystallian cow got pointed at Scion, and we got to watch that shit go down in living colour?"

Dorian tapped his lips. "Both our enemies fighting each other for our enjoyment? I can think of worse things to do on a Sunday afternoon."

"We're still going to have to plan this carefully," Fortuna said, drumming her fingers against her hip. "Scion is aware of us, but so long as we're wearing our seclusion rings, he hasn't been able to find us. But if he gets a chance to talk to the brat, they could both turn on us. We need to keep them apart until we've got them stirred up to the point that neither one has any interest in talking."

"Scion's built himself a decent powerbase here," Dorian reminded her. "There's every chance he could beat her."

"In which case, he's gonna wish he was dead by the time the Mystallians were finished with him. He's a hybrid, and if he manages to kill one of them, they're gonna make what's gonna happen to us look like amateur hour."

Clare stiffened and cocked his head. "Alexandria wants a doorway to Cauldron."

Fortuna nodded, dropping her weight into her chair and lifting her tablet back into her lap as if she'd been reading it all along. Clare dowsed the fire in his eyes and allowed his shoulders to slump. His head rocked to one side and a thin train of drool formed at the corner of his lips. After all this time, he'd perfected the act. Dorian waited for Clare's mask to be finalised before he created the doorway that brought Alexandria to them.

"Have you heard about the new cape?" she demanded, only to stop when she realised all three of them were in Fortuna's private office and coffee had been spilled everywhere. "Is everything alright?"

Clare giggled as if Alexandria had said a funny joke and Dorian took him by the elbow, guiding him out of the room. Contessa looked up at the powerful cape and smiled. "Everything is just fine."

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

It had only taken Janesha three hours from start to finish. As she reshaped the last ship into a solid steel block, the water under her feet began to part. The seabed was revealed, along with all the trash that had been dropped there over the decades and quite a few bits of debris from the ships themselves.

"Well?" she called out. "What are you waiting for? You can't expect me to do _all_ the work myself, can you?"

With a roar of laughter, the Dockworkers surged forward off the stands. The superheroes were only a little slower off the mark, heading down into the now-exposed harbour floor to wrestle the larger items out of the mud. Taylor went to join them, but Danny put his hand on her arm.

"Not today," he advised her quietly. "We don't want to show what we can do just yet."

"Why not?" she asked. "I'm as strong as anyone here and you know it."

"Knowing it is different from needing to use it." He folded his arms. "The time will come."

Taylor snorted and folded her arms as well. "Not quickly enough."

"One day at a time, kiddo. One day at a time."

* * *

End of Part Ten


	11. Chapter 11

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Eleven: Clearing the Air

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by the author of_ ** _Ties That Bind_** _, Karen Buckeridge.]_

 _[A/N 2: For anyone in or around North Queensland, Karen and I will be exhibiting at Magneticon in Townsville on 1-2 June. Come and chat!]_

* * *

The last one up on to the dockside was a grinning Manpower, covered in mud to the waist (and liberally daubed with it elsewhere) and hefting half a car of all things on one shoulder. The half-car was incredibly rusted, with no sign of what had happened to the other half.

"Wonder what happened with that?" mused Taylor as the seven-foot man climbed the concrete steps. "A boat I can understand, but a car?"

"With the way your cape battles play out," Janesha said, as if she herself hadn't been tossing around ships just a little while before, "and your utter lack of touch and ranged shifters, I'm personally surprised the city's still standing." She glanced at the bay, and the tentacle of water that had fed itself down inside her boot dissolved and spread out into a puddle. At the same time, the water that had been held back came flooding in to crash against the dockside.

"I suppose you have a point," Danny conceded. "They do tend to be hard on cars. Especially where Brutes are concerned." Taylor knew the topic was a running joke on some parts of the PHO boards, especially the list of "Cars Most Likely To Be Used In a Cape Fight". For some reason, the 1968 Cadillac was at the top of the list, and the Ford Pinto was in the "will explode before it leaves your hands" category at the bottom.

"What passes for Brutes here, anyway," Janesha observed in an amused tone of voice. "I've told you about my Uncle Griffith, haven't I?"

Taylor lowered her voice. "The guy who plays soccer with whole planets?" She waited for Janesha's nod. "Yeah, that sort of thing tends to stick in the mind." She raised an eyebrow at her friend. "You do realise that bringing your family into this is kind of cheating, right? From what you've told me, the least of your people has the potential to hilariously outclass even the most powerful cape we've got."

"Well, of _course_." Janesha's tone was now matter of fact. "But I fail to see how it's cheating."

"Because it's not even a contest," Taylor explained carefully. "Comparing Griffith to our Brutes is basically like comparing you to … um, your uncle Avis. Or Belial. You wouldn't think it was fair if one of them challenged you to a contest in something they were specialised in, would you?"

Janesha snorted. "There's a big difference between challenging someone and comparing them. Would you accuse Alexandria of cheating just because she can bench-press any normal human under the table? Or, to drop it down another tier, if you found an African tribe in the middle of nowhere who held an annual 'swimming across the river' competition, and their record stood at two hours to swim half a kilometre. Would you consider it cheating if you looked at that and said, "Damn, I could beat that with one arm tied behind my back, and you really wouldn't want to get an Olympian in here." Something about what she'd just said brought out a deep chuckle, and she swiftly added, "Either kind."

Taylor didn't quite follow her joke, because she was too busy processing what her friend had said. From what she understood, celestials of the noble families were brought up with the understanding that they _would_ become established one day, thus taking their place within the pantheon of their realm. Becoming gods. This was part of Janesha's outlook; when celestials outclassed everyone else, competing with mortals and winning wasn't cheating. It was the natural order of things.

"No one would seriously bother with a real challenge to someone of lesser capability. It's just not worth their time," Janesha declared in the end. But then her eyes shifted to the gathered heroes, and Taylor realised Glory Girl was the one receiving the dirty look. "Unless, of course, that somebody needs to be taught a lesson on where they sit in the grand scheme of things." Taylor suddenly remembered the race Cloudstrike had undertaken with the caped hero, such as it was.

But that made Taylor's point all the more valid. "But what if she doesn't know how one sided it is?"

Janesha chuckled darkly. "She does, now." She laughed again and shook her head. "Look, normally, we don't care if they know what we are. Because by then, we're established and they automatically _know_ who and what we are. Unestablished, it's slightly different. We tend to play from behind the scenes, so mortals don't get the chance to build up a belief base about us." She smirked. "That's why we're not usually allowed to go off and play on mortal worlds unsupervised until we _get_ established."

"So how much trouble _are_ you likely to be in, once your family shows up?" Danny waved at the surrounding situation, with the superheroes and Dockworkers having the thick, clinging mud hosed off them amid much hilarity. "A low profile, this is not."

Janesha shrugged. "Eh, I'll probably get yelled at, but so long as no one definitively believes I'm a celestial, I shouldn't get into too much trouble for this." Her cheeky grin returned. "Now, blowing off my mother for two weeks and tricking her into thinking I'm still in Asgard …" She let the words drift off, though she made the veins and cords in her neck stand out to signify the impending danger.

Danny shook his head and snorted. "As well you should be. I'd kill you, if you were mine and pulled that." He shot Taylor a sharp look and added, "It'd be like you skipping the country for two weeks after convincing me you were at summer camp."

Taylor could well appreciate the level of trouble that would bring her, so she decided to change the subject. "What sort of goddess do you think you'll be?" Not only was it a more comfortable line of discussion, but she was genuinely curious about that. Janesha was incredibly powerful by any stretch of the imagination, to the point that it would take no effort at all to see her as a goddess. _Stop right there,_ she told herself sternly. _She's_ ** _Janesha_** _. Not a goddess. Just my friend._

"Weather, most likely." Janesha looked pensively at the sky. "I always know what sort of weather we're going to have. That's my innate talent. Gods don't always get powerbases in line with their talents, but it does make things a lot easier."

"Whether or not it'll rain, you mean?" Taylor couldn't resist the hoary old pun.

Janesha gave her a dirty look. "When I'm goddess of the weather, jokes like that will be declared a mortal sin. Just you wait and see."

"How about songs?" asked Danny, a grin quirking the corner of his mouth. "If someone sang a song about the weather, would that count as prayer?"

Janesha stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. " _Really?_ You two have some very strange ideas about divinity if you even think that might work," she observed. "And it's making me wonder if it's a mortal thing or an Earth Bet thing."

"That should be easy to figure out." Taylor spread her hands. "How do your mortals back in Mystal see things?"

Janesha blinked. "No clue. It's not like I've ever asked any of them."

Danny tilted his head. "So, we're the first mortals you've taken the time to get to know." It wasn't a question. "That's kind of sad."

"Well, I'm not supposed to associate too closely with mortals until I get established. If I say or do the wrong thing before then, I could screw everything up for myself for all eternity." Janesha frowned. "Why is it sad?"

"Because when you get your powerbase and become a goddess, you'll have absolute power over billions of people," Danny explained. "But if you hadn't met us, you would never have taken the time to learn the mortal point of view. And speaking from my own experience? You can't be an effective leader, ruler, whatever, if you don't know what it's like for the guy on the bottom of the heap."

"That's crap," Janesha said at once. "I don't know what it's like in other realms, but we've never had a problem with our worshippers in Mystal. They love us."

Danny raised an eyebrow, and Taylor could almost hear his thoughts. ' _Do they get a choice?_ ' But instead, he went on with, "I will admit, it's probably _hard_ to totally screw up being a god when you've got all that power, but there's a lot of leeway between just getting by and actually being the best you can."

"Trust me. Every member of our pantheon knows exactly what they're about and what they're doing," Janesha argued.

"So, nobody screwed up getting their powerbase?" prompted Taylor. "Like that uncle you told me about; Blagden?"

"And I also told you how that happened, remember? He revealed his divinity to mortals before he was established. But now that it's a done deal, yes, he's all over everything to do with his powerbase, just like everyone else."

"Danny! Taylor!" The voice belonged to Kurt, a Dockworker and old friend of Taylor's father. He approached the group of three and shook Danny's hand vigorously. He was dripping wet, with a few stubborn mud stains on his clothing to show what he'd been up to. His boots, Taylor figured, must be full of water from the way he was squelching when he walked. "That was the most fun I've had in years." He turned his attention to Janesha. "And you're the young lady responsible for all this? I'm very pleased to meet you. Kurt Gainsborough."

"You're welcome." Janesha took his proffered hand and shook it. In the next moment, all the water puffed away from him in a cloud of steam, and the mud stains drifted away as dust on the wind. "Janesha of Mystal."

"Whoa!" Kurt let out a surprised laugh as he looked down at his now-dry clothing. A couple of experimental steps evinced a total lack of squelching. "That's amazing. Though I guess I shouldn't really be surprised after what you did with the Graveyard." He looked at the neatly stacked steel blocks, off to the side out of the way. "This will really bring the Dockworkers back into the black, once we start cashing that lot in."

"Yeah." Danny's voice held deep satisfaction. "Maybe I can even get the Mayor's office to underwrite the ferry now."

"Pfft." Kurt rolled his eyes. "Good buddy, we've known each other for I don't know how many years, now? You _know_ I've got faith in you to do the impossible. How you persuaded Janesha here to do what she did today, I can't even begin to imagine. But even _I_ don't think that's ever gonna happen."

Taylor saw the glint in Janesha's eye and the slight squaring of her shoulders at that. She didn't need Mystallian mind bending abilities to tell that the young celestial had just gone into _'challenge accepted'_ mode.

"How about we stick with one miracle at a time?" she suggested, looking at her father but aiming the words at Janesha. "I'm sure after Mayor Christner sees what's been achieved today, he'll be more likely to come around on the ferry thing. No need to back him into a corner and force the issue just yet."

Kurt looked at her appraisingly. "That's actually a very mature viewpoint to take," he conceded. "And to be honest, it might just work out that way. The Mayor isn't here right now, but I did spot some of his people lurking around before." He took a deep breath. "Of course, you know Roy, Danny. If he can't spin it to look like his idea or at least get some political capital out of it, he's a lot less likely to put his weight behind it."

Danny grimaced. "I liked him better before he was a career politician. When he was just another city councilman, he was a lot more sympathetic to my ideas."

"Back before he sold his soul to the devil?" Kurt gave a short bark of laughter.

"Why the fuck would you be laughing about that?" Janesha was horrified.

"Figure of speech," Taylor quickly interceded, before Kurt could ask the obvious question. "You know, ha-ha? It's not like he's _actually_ sold his soul to the devil."

Janesha looked Kurt in the eye and shook her head. "That ain't funny where I come from. Not even a little bit. Only a fool enters into one of those deals, and it always bites them in the ass. Always."

Kurt looked at Danny. "Is she for real?"

Danny sighed. "For the most part. Where she comes from, there's a … a cape that's capable of fulfilling deals like that. And once you die, you become his. Some say for the rest of eternity. Much like Glaistig Uaine."

"Fuck me!" Kurt swore, covering his mouth. He then looked at Janesha, his eyes just as wide in horror as hers had been, then dropped his hand. "Sorry, darlin'. We don't have anyone like that here, so it's a running joke. Roy didn't really sell his soul. At least, not to our knowledge."

"I still wouldn't be invoking him if I were you. He tends to sniff it out, and if enough people say it, he could very well turn up here and start making offers."

Kurt breathed out heavily. "Good to know. We have enough troublemakers here as it is, without adding someone like that to the mix."

"Sometimes I think politicians should only ever be elected for one term," Danny grumbled. "That way, they aren't stuck trying to please everybody and his dog to try to get re-elected, as opposed to doing the _right_ thing."

Kurt frowned. "While I can't disagree with your logic, there's almost certainly a loophole somewhere in your idea that opens up the gate to much worse concepts."

"As interesting as all this sounds," Janesha declared in the tone of voice that said _I'm bored to crap_ , "I'm not quite finished here." She turned to Danny. "Don't you need the machinery refurbished as well, in order to make the docks work again?"

Without waiting for an answer, she headed off in the direction of the closest crane. Patched with rust here and there from years of exposure to salt air with no maintenance, it was almost certainly riddled with less visible damage.

"Oops, gotta go," Taylor said hurriedly. "Nice seeing you, Kurt. Say hi to Lacey for me." As she dashed after Janesha, she saw the other girl stop then casually wave a hand toward the ad hoc stadium seats. With a deep grinding noise (which Taylor very strongly suspected was deliberate on Janesha's part) the seats began to retract once more into the ground. This didn't surprise Taylor in the slightest; after all, the seats were no longer needed. And if there was one thing she knew about Janesha, it was that the girl had a distinct flair for the dramatic.

* * *

 **Armsmaster**

* * *

Colin watched the teenage pair approach the base of the crane. His mouth bore a faint smile in anticipation of something just as impressive as the clearing of the Boat Graveyard. Janesha's casual manipulation of solid concrete to create the stands had definitely gotten his attention. When she started pulling entire ships out of the ocean by hand before reshaping them into cubes of metal, he'd just sat there, trying to get his head around the sheer power involved. That was _Eidolon-level_ capability, right there.

"What do you think they're doing?" muttered Assault. "Is she going to make the machinery into modern art, or turn it into a giant mecha?"

Given Janesha's previous feats, Colin wouldn't have ruled out the possibility of either thing happening. The probability, however, was something else altogether. "Neither," he said, just as quietly. "She's fixing the docks for Hebert, not destroying them. At the moment, that wreck of a crane would have difficulty lifting me up, let alone tonnes and tonnes of steel."

A minute or so later, Janesha reached the crane and placed one of her hands on one of the gigantic metal struts that kept it stable. After a few second of inactivity, the entire crane began to alter in appearance. A brand-new paint job in black and gold spread over the whole thing, making it look more like a science-fiction prop than a dockside crane. Underneath the paint job, however, Colin could see that the rust was gone, and the machinery gleamed as though it had just been installed in place.

It took Assault a few more seconds to react. "Wait … did she just …"

Colin nodded. "It looks like it. I'd have to examine it to be sure, but I'm pretty sure she just repaired the whole thing with a touch."

"Well, I was actually gonna refer to the bitchin' paint job she did on it," the other hero retorted. "But if she changed it structurally, is that even street legal?"

"I'd have to check the regulations," admitted Colin. "But if it isn't, I suspect she'll be able to fix that just as easily." Deep down, the admiration and respect he felt for the girl were at war with the envy he wanted to feel. The ability to maintain and repair complicated machinery in the time it took to draw a deep breath would make his job _so_ much easier. But of course, entertaining such emotions about the teenage newcomer would be unworthy of him. She had her powers and he had his, and it was up to both of them to make the most of what they had.

He watched her move on to the next crane, the Hebert girl strolling alongside, and nodded to himself. They'd gotten off on the wrong foot when he first met the cape, but he'd quickly figured out the real situation and changed his attitude. Janesha of Mystal, he'd realised, was going to make her mark on Brockton Bay whether he chose to stand in her way or not. So, it was better all told to stand back and afford her the respect to which she was due.

After all, if heroes didn't have each other's backs, where would the world be?

* * *

 **Cauldron Base**

 **Contessa**

* * *

"Son of a fucking _bitch_."

The words, softly spoken, barely reached Fortuna's ears. She turned at once and eyeballed Clare sitting at the small table covered with Duplo blocks, colouring pencils and paper. How her brother had maintained the façade of a drooling idiot for so many years was a testament to their training, but now he seemed to be dropping the act with ever increasing frequency. Especially when the 'ash' of his eyes ignited with each expletive, and he straightened in the chair to stare at nothing just past where Fortuna sat. "Motherfucking brainless dumbass fucking fucker!"

Once again, they were alone, and she thanked her innate ability for looking out for them once more.

"What?" Dorian demanded, half a heartbeat before Fortuna could. Her second in command had been sitting at Clare's side, reading a book on mortal warfare that had apparently lasted centuries as their go-to manual. Some of it he'd ridiculed, but other points did actually have merit when he showed them to her. "Clare, report!"

As if someone had flicked a switch in Clare's head, the psychic of Abaddon became all business. He turned to Fortuna as his commanding officer and said, "That little Mystallian cow has just flat-out admitted that she skipped out on her family. As far as her family is concerned, she's still in Asgard! They've got no fucking idea she's in this realm! Shit, they've got no idea that this realm even fucking _exists_! Can we kill her _now_?"

Dorian looked to Fortuna. After working as her second in command for so long, he knew better than to make any assumptions once Fortuna had already binned them. But his eyes spoke volumes. They practically begged for permission.

Fortuna held up her hand and turned her thoughts inwards. Inside her imagination, she recreated every scene that had led up to this moment. The loss of Abaddon. The surprise stab that kept the female hybrid alive instead of killing her. The existence of the other hybrid from Earlafaol. And now, the arrival of an unestablished Mystallian. A very _killable_ Mystallian.

And suddenly, everything her innate ability had been trying to tell her was now becoming clear.

"No," she stated, once she returned to the physical realm.

"What?" Clare stared at her, his expression one of betrayal. "But she's _right there_! All she's got around her are _mortals_! There's nobody watching her fucking _back_! She's not even _established_! We'll never get a better chance!"

Fortuna slid her eyes to Dorian, who took Clare by the back of the head and slammed him face first into table, breaking both his nose and the table on impact. Fortuna nodded her approval. He'd already been warned once. Next time, she'd have his arm ripped off. Literally. As a psychic, he didn't need both arms to be useful to the Cause. "We aren't going to be the ones to kill her, because if we play our cards right, we not only won't go into the sin-bin when we go home, we'll be fucking promoted."

Dorian and a bloodied Clare looked at each other. "I must confess, I don't get what you mean either," Dorian admitted.

In the past, he would've kept his mouth shut and asked her for clarification in private, but as he could never be without Clare and it was only the three of them left, Fortuna understood his breach of protocol. "How did Scion and his bitch get to live to adulthood without a celest killing them for even existing?" she asked instead.

"Dey lif'd in Ear'afaol," Clare replied, holding his nose in position and attempting to talk around the breakage. It would take about an hour for the damage to heal entirely, but in that time, Clare could reflect on his actions and hopefully learn from them. _They lived in Earlafaol._

"And do you think they're the only two Lady Col's been hiding?"

"Well, _no,_ " conceded Dorian slowly. "But … the other hybrids aren't here, so … what does it matter?"

Fortuna had no idea why Dorian wasn't connecting the dots. "Because the Mystallian brat is unestablished. She's killable. Sooner or later, the elders of Mystal are going to come looking for their little runaway, and when they get here and learn Scion, a _hybrid from Earlafaol_ was the one who killed her …"

"They're going to want the heads of every other hybrid Earlafaol's hiding," Dorian concluded as the light finally dawned.

"'n La'y Col ain' gonna 'and 'em over eiver…" Clare added. _And Lady Col ain't gonna hand them other either._

"Exactly," Fortuna's smile was venomous.

"It ge's be'er," Clare said with a matching smile, though his didn't quite pan out because of the blood pouring down his face. "With the vam'ly she rul'd out as uncles, 'er lin'age is eiv'r Armina o' War, Tal o' Destruction, 'r Amaro o' Death. Giv'n she said 'er inna'e abili'y's wea'ver, my money's on War." _It gets better. With the family she ruled out as uncles, her lineage is either Armina of War, Tal of Destruction, or Amaro of Death. Given she said her innate ability's weather, my money's on War._

"Fucking _beautiful_!" Fortuna clapped her hands together in delight. "Mystal is going to want the blood of every last motherfucking hybrid hiding on Earlafaol, and there's no way in _fuck_ I can see Lady Col handing them over without a fight. And when Mystal tries to force the issue, Armina will be leading the charge and the agreement Mystal has with Earlafaol will be out the window!"

"Earlafaol is _fucked_." Dorian sounded positively gleeful at the idea.

"Bu' da Pryde's still pre'y damn terr'fyin'," Clare reminded him. _But the Pryde's still pretty damn terrifying._

"So's Armina when she's pissed," Fortuna pointed out. "Look, it comes down to this. It doesn't matter who wins. The alliance between them will be over and we can waltz right in and take the weapon without having to raise a hand. As I said, provided we play this right, any outcome is going to advance the cause by fucking _eons._ "

"So, how do we do it, commander?"

Fortuna eyed them both. "That's exactly what we need to figure out."

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

" … and done." Janesha took her hand away from the last piece of machinery—a gigantic travelling overhead hoist—and dusted her palms off. Taylor was pretty sure the gesture was just for show, especially given Janesha's shifting capabilities.

"Nice." Taylor took a moment to admire the black and gold colour scheme. Unless she was much mistaken, the newly-reborn Lord's Port dockside had the most eye catching palette on the east coast. Janesha had stopped short of actually incorporating the Mystallian sigil into the design, though Taylor suspected it had been a near thing.

"Thanks." Janesha took the praise as her due.

Taylor was about to ask how Janesha had known how to fix the crane, but then realised Kurt was in the celestial's line of sight, and he'd once driven those things for a living. She didn't want to start another round of arguments over indiscriminate use of mind bending—mainly because she'd already seen how those turned out—so she went on to another, semi-related subject. "Uh, you do shifting by touch and not range, right?"

"So?" Janesha looked at her as if wondering why she was asking a question with such an obvious answer.

"Well," said Taylor. "I was just curious how you made the stadium pull back into the ground. You were nowhere near it."

Janesha smirked. "That's easy. The stadium was still part of the concrete slab we were standing on. You remember when I raised it up, how I stopped and clapped every couple of steps? Nobody noticed me stopping, because everyone was paying attention to me clapping."

"But you said that was to give them warning that you were raising the stadium," Taylor pointed out.

"And I wasn't lying about that, but the stopping part was the crucial bit, as it allowed me to make a hole in the sole of my boot and grow a rubber tipped thorn down to touch the concrete slab. People would've seen it if I'd kept walking. And when I pulled it back down …"

"… you stopped and looked at it, implying it was ranged, not touch." Taylor shook her head in wonder. "You did it right in front of me, and I never realised."

"Celestials never show all their cards if they don't have to," Janesha stated, as if passing on a profound truth. "You never know if someone's watching who might have a reason to want to pull you down. By implying you can hit above your tier, it makes others think twice about trying anything. Cousin Cora taught me that. And how to do the open-sole trick." She held up her gloved hand. "We do the same thing with our fingertips, when we have to. No one notices it's not the glove."

"Trust me, not making yourself appear weak is something I understand perfectly," Taylor reminded her. "Or had you forgotten the situation I was before you got here?"

"See, that's something I don't really get." Janesha hummed pensively for a moment. "Being a dick to get a laugh, I understand. Doing shit like they were doing to you, over and over without any good reason, I can see it happening if it's part of a thrall. But being dicks like that to you for as long as they did, for no appreciable gain? Not even making you pay 'protection' so they'd leave you alone? They're mortals, not gods. They don't have something pushing them to do that. If they didn't like you, why not just walk away?"

Taylor shook her head. "Believe me, if I knew, I'd tell you," she said bitterly. "You're not asking any questions I didn't ask myself a million times." She tilted her head. "Wait a minute. You spent time with them. Why didn't you mind bend them and find out?"

Janesha made a rude noise with her lips. "Because I didn't care about 'why' until now. I was just having fun fucking their lives up for screwing with you."

"Well, I can't deny you've succeeded in doing that," Taylor conceded. "Though I really, really want to be there when you tell Sophia that her powers are never, ever coming back." She wondered exactly what consequences Ms Bright was going to bring down on Emma for 'outing' Sophia at the top of her voice.

Then she pondered Madison's state of mind; the petite brunette had to be wondering when it would be her turn. _Soon,_ she promised silently. It wasn't that she was vindictive—well, _mostly_ not that. There was some maxim she'd read once upon a time, about leaving an enemy able to strike from behind. Given that she was pretty well impervious to regular harm by now, taking Madison off the board would mainly be a symbolic act … but one that was very important to her. Also, she admitted to herself, satisfying as _hell._

"I'll see what I can do," Janesha said airily. "In the meantime, what else is there to do around here?"

Celestials, Taylor decided, set an entirely new bar when it came to being easily bored. Janesha had just performed something that was barely short of an act of God (both literally and figuratively) and instead of _I'm tired, let's go home_ her attitude was _what can we go do now?_ A bored teenager was one thing; a bored _celestial_ teenager was quite another. Both had the potential to result in property damage. It was just that in the latter case, the property damage would probably be visible from _Mars_.

Fortunately, the conversation had given Taylor an idea. "Let's go talk to Armsmaster," she suggested. "I want to ask him about Emma."

Janesha raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "Really? What could he tell you about her that we don't already know?" Raising her hand, she began to tick off points. "Shallow, disloyal, thinks way too much of her looks, has no idea when she's out of her depth …"

" … why she did what she did," Taylor said, heading toward the armoured hero. From what she could tell, the Protectorate capes had stayed back to keep the rest of the crowd from mobbing Janesha while the celestial girl was fixing the machinery.

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't know that. Or even that she screwed you over," Janesha pointed out.

"I know, but he _will_ know if she's in PRT custody or not. If I'm right, Sophia's handler will want to make an example of her to take the heat off herself, and I'm hoping he's okay with telling you where she is. Then we'll go there and ask her why she was such a bitch." It seemed logical to Taylor.

"And by that you mean, you want me to mind bend it out of her." Janesha had a way of getting to the point.

Taylor refused to be daunted. "If that's what it takes, sure." She glanced at Janesha. "I mean, if you're okay with that."

Janesha made a rude noise with her lips. "I'd be happy with turning her into a red-haired hamster with just enough self-awareness that she remembers who and what she used to be, but if all you want to do is interrogate her, that's fine by me."

Taylor took a deep breath to get past the lurch of horror in her chest. The idea of anyone, even Emma, living on in the body of a hamster while _knowing_ that they'd once been human, and having no way to return to that state … it sent chills right through her body. "Have you ever … done that?" she asked faintly.

"What, turned someone into a hamster?" Janesha paused and considered. "Maybe once, when my Uncle Barris, the sick fuck, tried spying on me in the changing rooms when he and I were the only ones in there. I figured if he wanted to be a slimy, disgusting leech so bad, I'd help him along."

This story was new, and it snared Taylor's undivided attention. "What happened next?"

"The family figured out something was up when he didn't turn up for meals and wouldn't answer anyone's bloodlinks. Missing the meals is a big no-no in Mystal unless someone knows where you are. The only reason I got into trouble for my part in it, was because when we were all asked if we knew where he was, I lied my ass off and said I didn't have a clue, forgetting my Aunt Clarise was in the room." She looked at Taylor and grimaced. "Don't ever try that in front of an established Goddess of Truth. Aunt Clarise may not be a bender, but she has ranged shifting through the ass and knows how to use it. I've never felt pain like it and she didn't move from her seat at the head of the room. She just looked at me and every cell in my whole fucking body was on fire."

"What happened to your dirty uncle?"

That was when Janesha chortled evilly. "He was made whole, and then grandmother Armina went into his head to see what happened from his side of things." The chortle turned to a maniacal laugh that had the teen wrapping her arms around her waist and twisting in delight. "Let's just say, War was pissed, and none of us heard from Uncle Barris for weeks."

"Well, that was kinda justified, but please don't do it to any of us poor mortals."

"Petal, regardless of who it's done to, if a celestial does it, that's usually the _definition_ of 'justified'," Janesha explained. "We want it to happen, so it happens. What other justification do we need?" She held up her two index fingers and brought them together to illustrate her point.

Taylor rubbed her forehead. "Just between you and me, I get the impression that the rights of the individual don't actually mean much to you."

"Individuals don't _usually_ matter to us," Janesha conceded. "You and your dad are my two exceptions, of course. But … okay, it's like this. Suppose you're eating a bowl of rice. One or two grains fall on the floor, you couldn't care less. But if someone tried to steal the whole bowl, you'd care a whole lot. That's basically how it is between gods and mortals."

"I'm not exactly okay with the fact that either the rice gets eaten or it's discarded on the floor," Taylor remarked with a grimace.

"Don't get technical, petal," huffed Janesha. "You know what I meant."

"Yeah," Taylor agreed, but she still didn't like it.

"Okay, fiiiine. I won't turn anyone into a hamster, no matter how much they deserve it. Happy now?"

"I guess." Taylor raised her hand to get Armsmaster's attention, which served to change the subject. "Excuse me, Armsmaster. Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Certainly," he replied. "Though, excuse me for a second. I have to say, Janesha, your workmanship is superb. It would save so much time if I were able to repair my equipment simply by touching it."

Janesha smirked at him. "Thanks, but Taylor's still got that question to ask."

Before the conversation could be derailed any more, Taylor jumped in. "Yeah, uh, I was just wondering if the PRT was still talking to Emma Barnes, or if she's been let go already."

From Armsmaster's pause, he hadn't expected that question. "I honestly don't know," he replied. "I'm familiar with the name—I've kept current with your case—but I'd have to check."

"That would be appreciated." Janesha's tone was only a shade away from being a direct order. "Taylor wants to ask her a few questions, and we can't do that if we don't know where she is."

Armsmaster frowned slightly. "Even if I was to find out, you have to know you won't be allowed to join in on the questioning."

"I wasn't planning on asking her anything while she was in custody. But once she leaves, I have every intention of asking her why she was such a bitch to my friend."

Armsmaster stiffened and stared down at Janesha. "Is asking with words all you intend on doing?" he asked, and Taylor was under no illusion that he had his lie detector thingie up and running for Janesha's answer.

"I won't lay a finger on her. Scout's honour."

For a moment, she thought Armsmaster was going to refuse Janesha's semi-request, but then the Protectorate hero nodded slightly. "I'll check for you." He turned away and spoke under his breath.

"You know that only works if you're a girl scout, right?" Taylor murmured, just loudly enough for Janesha to hear. The only reply she got was a self-satisfied smirk. For a moment, she wondered if Janesha had used her mind-bending on Armsmaster again, or if her previous orders to him were still in effect. The answer, she decided, was 'yes'. Either way, Janesha had gotten what she wanted. This was more or less par for the course when it came to a celestial being among mortals.

"She's just leaving the PRT building," Armsmaster reported, turning back toward them. "Her father apparently showed up with a lawyer, so they've released her back into his custody, pending further investigation."

"Cool, thanks." Janesha shot him a beaming smile. "Me and Taylor have gotta go now. Bye." She took hold of Taylor's hand. By now, Taylor knew what to expect, and as Janesha took a step forward into that weird crystal world, Taylor was right there beside her.

They stepped back into the real world in the lobby of the PRT building. Not a moment too soon either. As Taylor looked around to get her bearings, the sliding doors opened and Alan Barnes stepped out of the building, closely followed by Emma. Taylor didn't recognise the third person with them, but she figured he must be the lawyer Armsmaster had mentioned. He had the look, right down to the briefcase he carried.

"Oh, hey, there's the bitch of the hour." Janesha's grasp of subtlety, as ever, was close to non-existent. "Daddy's money get you out of trouble yet again? Word to the wise, red. Once you grow up, that shit won't fly forever. One day, you're gonna put your foot one step too far, and shit's gonna go down that he won't be able to make go away."

"Excuse me, _who_ the hell are you?" demanded Emma's father, stepping in between Janesha and his daughter. "Move away before I have you arrested for harassment."

"Mr Barnes," began Taylor. "I just want to ask Emma—"

"Miss Barnes is not answering questions from anyone without a court order," the lawyer put in, interposing himself in front of Taylor. Even now, he held his briefcase like a shield in front of him. "If you do not step back, you can be charged with assault."

"But I—" Taylor looked toward Mr Barnes, trying to convey an appeal with her eyes.

"Taylor, I don't know what's gotten into you," he replied. "Bringing a cape to school to bully Emma and force her to say things against her will? I thought you were her _friend_."

Taylor's mouth dropped open at the sheer audacity of what he was saying. No doubt Emma had put it into his head, but surely he had to see how _idiotic_ it sounded. "But … I didn't … I … wait, Emma's saying _I_ stopped being _her_ friend? That's stupid! She—"

Suddenly, the lawyer was shoved aside, and Alan Barnes was in her face. "Not … one … more … word," he hissed. "Emma was questioned by the _PRT_ because of what you …"

Janesha pulled Taylor back and took her place. " **Back off, bozo** ," she snarled, with a depth of tone that didn't belong this side of Hell. Fearing the change of depth meant another of those mental commands had been issued, Taylor nudged her friend between the shoulder blades in warning, even as Alan Barnes stumbled backwards in terror. In just a few seconds, he seemed to recover himself, but he was nowhere near as confident as he had been.

"Your lies are on her permanent record!" he insisted, though the statement was uttered behind the lawyer, whom both Emma and her father were using as a shield. "You stay away from us, and stop spreading stories about her, unless you want to end up on the wrong side of a defamation lawsuit. Do you understand?"

"Get your daughter to stop doing them, and then Taylor won't have to stop reporting it. That's the way it's really going to work … _Alan_."

He squared his shoulders and glared at the girl. "If you're this 'Janesha of Mystal' that Emma's been talking about, I have to warn you that you're playing a dangerous game. You might think that because you're a cape you're above the law, but that's the farthest thing from the truth."

Images of Janesha spinning a thirty-thousand tonne ship on her fingertip (the chorus of "BULLSHIT!" had scared off every seagull in a hundred-yard radius) came back to Taylor, underlining the futility of any kind of blowback. Alan Barnes had clearly not seen the footage (that there would be footage, Taylor was certain) and as such, he frowned when Janesha laughed in his face. "Honestly, I don't give one-gazillionth of a percent of a shit about what you think you could do to me. But I do know this." She sobered just as quickly. " **You will** ** _not_** **threaten Taylor or her dad with the law, ever again**. Do you understand me?"

Taylor noticed Janesha hadn't included herself in that ban, probably because she just didn't see the law as a threat. _And who am I to tell her she's wrong?_ Alan Barnes took another two steps backward before regaining his equilibrium. "I never planned on suing Danny. He's been my friend for more years than either one of you have been alive." Scowling, he looked to where Taylor stood behind Janesha and huffed. "Which, I suppose means I shouldn't go after his daughter either." He turned to the side to include Emma in his next statement. "Just stay away from each other from now on, okay?"

Poor Emma looked as if she'd swallowed a watermelon. "B-But Daddy …"

"No buts, pumpkin. You stay away from her, and she'll stay away from you. And then this all goes away."

 _Don't bet on it_ , Taylor thought, but wisely kept that snarky comment to herself.

Janesha nodded. "Good. Now we're got that straightened out, me and Taylor have got better places to be. Basically, anywhere but here." Janesha stepped away from trio and took Taylor by the hand. The other was raised in a fingertip wave. "Toodles."

"But I want to—" Taylor's protest was cut off as Janesha pulled them both through a realm-step. They came out in the living room of Taylor and Danny's house, where Janesha let go of Taylor's hand and flopped back on to the sofa. " —ask Emma some questions," Taylor finished. "Janesha, _seriously_? Why'd you pull me away so quickly?"

"Because unless you wanted me to make it obvious I was messing with her head in a place that has more cameras than Fort Knox, she wasn't going to give you any answers just by asking. And because neither of you are benders, I can't take you into her imagination with me. Failing all of that, there's no way she'd have answered you honestly. She'd have ducked and weaved and hidden behind her father and that lawyer, just like he did." Stretching back in the lounge, she hooked her hands behind her head and grinned. "Besides, I already got all the answers you wanted. While you and Alan were having your little chat, she and I were having ours."

"You went into her mind?" It was still hard for Taylor to get her head around. "I didn't even see you do it."

"Come on, petal, get with the program. You know it's an instantaneous thing." Janesha sat up and patted the sofa beside her. "Sit down. I'll set up a room in your imagination where you can interrogate her as long as you want. Hell, you can even beat her up like you did with Sophia." A grin quirked one corner of her mouth upward. "Whatever it takes to help you get past the little skank. I promise you, her answers will be absolutely on the money."

"Oh. Okay." Taylor sat down and made herself comfortable. "So, what do I have to do?"

"Nothing. I'm in the driver's seat." As Janesha leaned back again, the front door opened and Emma walked into the house.

Taylor blinked. "Wait— _Emma_? How did you get here so quickly? The PRT building's miles away, and I thought the door was …" She trailed off as she realised what was going on. "Oh, wow. We're already in my imagination, aren't we? I didn't even notice the transition."

Janesha winked. "Gotcha. I did it halfway through you asking what you had to do." She snapped her fingers (more for effect than from need, Taylor was sure), and a plain wooden chair appeared on the rug in front of them. 'Emma' crossed the room and sat down on it, facing them. Taylor couldn't get over how like the real Emma she was, except that she wasn't reacting to anything. She was just looking at them. "So, go ahead. Ask."

Taylor took a deep breath. "Emma. Why are you being such a bitch to me?"

The simulacrum of her ex-best friend frowned. "I don't really think I'm being that much of a bitch to you." She held up both hands, palm up, as if comparing the weight of two objects. "We started doing it because I was in a really bad place, and Sophia was telling me I had to be strong. And one part of it was that you were getting back on your feet after your mom died, which meant you were strong. But on the other hand, you still weren't all the way there, which meant you weren't strong enough yet."

"Wait." Taylor held up a hand, and 'Emma' stopped talking. "What's Sophia got to do with all this? What happened to you? Is this about when you stopped taking my calls?"

"Yes." 'Emma' seemed to take a breath. "Me and Dad were driving, and we got trapped in an alley by some ABB. They dragged me out of the car and cut some of my hair off and were making me eat it. Then they were going to make me decide whether I wanted to lose an eye or both ears or have my face cut up some other way. Sophia was there, as Shadow Stalker. When I fought back, she jumped in and kicked the shit out of them. But afterward I fell apart. I wouldn't leave the house for days. When I went back to the place it happened, Sophia was there. She started talking to me about how strong I was. I didn't feel strong at all, but I decided to fake it until I made it."

Taylor shook her head, shocked by these revelations. "Geez … Emma, you could have spoken to me about it. You _know_ I would've been there for you."

"I know," 'Emma' agreed. "But I didn't want your pity. I wanted to prove I was as strong as Sophia said I was. And, in the beginning, I suppose I wanted you to be strong, too. So, we started pushing you down, to make you prove you were strong enough to be friends with me and Sophia." She frowned again. "I think Sophia's got something against you. I've occasionally thought it was time to let up, but she keeps telling me to push you down harder, so you can show your true strength."

"So why _don't_ you just step back and leave me alone?" demanded Taylor. "Surely you've pushed me down enough!"

"Because somewhere along the line it turned into something easy and fun that made me feel better about myself. It makes me feel strong." 'Emma' made the admission without blinking an eye. "I see you as weak now, and I congratulate myself for not letting your weakness infect my friendship with Sophia. I suppose once I might've let you go your own way, but now it's just too much fun. It's a real challenge sometimes, thinking up new ways to make you react. I mean, it's not like we can pull off something like the locker twice in a row."

Taylor stared. "So … that's it?" she asked. "That's the entire reason you've been fucking up my whole life for the past year? Because it was _fun_?"

'Emma' shrugged. "What can I tell you? I'm a shallow, insecure, spoiled, overprivileged bitch who didn't know true friendship when it was staring me in the face, and I've replaced you with people who'd backstab me in a heartbeat to save their own hides." She chuckled. "Though I'm pretty sure Madison's got a secret crush on Sophia. Sophia would absolutely kick her ass if she ever found out."

Slowly, Taylor turned to Janesha. "Are you putting words in her mouth?"

"Nope, not me." Janesha shook her head. "After I went into Emma's head, I got a thorough understanding of her reasons and motivations. I even watched that ambush scene she's referring to. Then I went over into her imagination and spent a few hours interrogating the shit out of her." She looked at Taylor and added, "Don't ask how creatively. Let's just say I lost my temper a few times and my dad's hellish ancestors would be super proud. If I'd let her remember any of it, what's left of her intellect would've been dripping out of her ears along with a thin trail of blood."

"Graphic," Taylor said, blanching slightly.

Janesha shrugged. "I didn't start it, petal. Initially, I set us up in a private room in the school just to see what she'd do if we met under civilised circumstances. Crazy bitch set the pace by literally jumping me and trying to claw my eyes out for stealing Sophia's powers. And since that was the road she wanted to take,"—Janesha held up her fingers and through the gloves she grew some wickedly evil talons—"We danced."

"And what is this?" Taylor asked, waving at her former friend's image.

The talons retracted into Janesha's glove and she turned her attention to the girl seated before them. "This is a culmination of all that information in the form of Emma Barnes, without any of her usual filters. This version is saying exactly what the real Emma knows and thinks; even the stuff she'd never admit out loud in a million years. My only stipulation was to nix any aggression on her part." She rolled her hand at Emma. "And this is the end result."

"Wow, holy fuck." Taylor rubbed her hands over her face. "Whatever I thought this was about, that wasn't it."

She was a little surprised with herself that she wasn't yelling and screaming and ranting the place down or punching 'Emma' into orbit. Which, given that this was her imagination, she could actually do. Her self-control, she decided, was due to the thing Janesha had done to her to take away the immediacy of her painful memories. She was able to face up to them, and to the proximate cause of them, without losing control altogether.

"So, you got any more questions?"

"No, I don't think … wait." Taylor raised her hand to stop Janesha from erasing the scene. "Emma. What was the look on Sophia's face like when she realised she'd actually lost her powers?"

'Emma' shook her head slowly. "Oh, man. She was _so goddamn pissed_. I've never heard anyone swear so much since that friend of your dad's dropped a chair on his foot at the Dockworkers barbecue you and I snuck into that one time." The TV flared to life, showing Sophia in the bathroom in what Taylor guessed was soon after Janesha left. The depowered cape's curses came thick and fast, filling the room and Taylor had to admit that 'Emma' was spot on with her judgement. Sophia certainly could swear with the best of them. And yes, the look on her face was pure gold.

Slowly, she stood up from the sofa. "Emma," she said softly. "I know you aren't you, but I don't really care right now. I've wanted to do this for the last six months." She took a step closer. "I understand you've been through some serious shit, but there's no excuse in the world for taking it all out on me. Especially when I would've helped you through it without thinking twice." Stopping in front of the image of her once-best-friend, she clenched her fist and drew it back. "So, from the bottom of my heart, fuck you."

Swinging her fist in a huge looping uppercut, she felt the jar as it impacted with the underside of the image's jaw. In real life, she knew, Emma's head might've exploded from the force behind the blow. Instead, just as she wanted, 'Emma' was sent rocketing upward, smashing through the ceiling and the roof beyond, dwindling into the sky beyond until there was nothing left to be seen. Just like the cartoons she'd loved as a kid. Maybe that's why she'd done it—to enjoy the strike but keep it firmly in the category of 'unrealistic'.

"Nice punch." Janesha joined her below the Emma-shaped skylight, shading her eyes and looking upward. "Want to go again, or are we done here?"

"We're done here." Taylor sighed sadly. "I got my answers. I just don't get why it's not making me feel any better."

"Because, like a lot of people, you're confusing answers with solutions." Abruptly, they were both sitting on the sofa again, and the hole in the ceiling was gone. Janesha shrugged. "Usually, you can't begin to craft a solution without getting answers first."

Taylor looked across at her friend. It was moments of insight like this that reminded her they were on two very different wavelengths sometimes. "Oh. Right." She popped back to her feet again, knowing they'd spent no physical time while in her imagination, but still feeling as if they'd spent too much time away from reality. "Okay, so I got my answers. The rest I'll figure out in my own time." She turned to Janesha. "What did _you_ want to do?"

Janesha's return grin would've sent shivers down a shark's back. "I understand you have other supervillains apart from the Merchants in this city. I'm wondering if the PRT would object if we went and paid them a visit." _Tough shit if they do,_ her tone promised.

"Sure, we could do that." Taylor smirked. "Or … we could go shopping in the mall."

Janesha's eyebrows shot into her fringe. "Actual shopping?"

Taylor nodded. "In actual shops. A place where everything you could ever want is in one place, and you walk down the aisles picking what you like. I've only ever window shopped before now."

"Shopping for windows doesn't sound like much fun."

"It means to look without buying. But with your ability to make things, we could go to a bank and set you up with gold bullion. So long as what you're creating is the real deal, I see no difference between you creating whatever gold you need for cash, and some random person finding a million-dollar lump of it in the ground." But just as quickly as she'd spoken, Taylor's plan derailed itself and she let out a huff of defeat. "Never mind. There's no way you'll get a bank account without ID, and I doubt you have a driver's licence in that uniform anywhere."

"Maybe not, but we might not have to," Janesha said, thoughtfully.

Taylor had her doubts. "Dad'll have a fit if you walk in with a bank account when he knows you don't have any ID on you to get it the legal way."

"True, but this place is creepily similar to my cousin's realm. If this is a replication of her realm, her base rules might still be in play even here."

Taylor's eye twitched. Whenever Janesha said something like that, more weirdness was on the way. "What do you mean?"

Janesha stood up beside her. "My full name is Lady Janesha Nascerdios. Can you think of any reason why I shouldn't enter the Empire Eighty-Eight?" She waved a hand suggestively at the dark skin of her face.

Taylor thought it was the most pointless question she'd ever heard. "Apart from them being a pack of racist assholes that you could do better than, why should I … holy _fuck_!" She leaned away from Janesha, both hands covering her mouth as she realised what had naturally come to mind. "You said you wouldn't fuck with my head anymore!"

Janesha held up a hand. "Calm down, petal. I didn't touch your mind. I promise. It's a realm-wide conditioning that was put in place long before your species ever evolved. Celestials often visit Earlafaol, but to avoid awkward questions, Lady Col put a last name in place that made all mortals not question anything from appearance to background to wealth of the person claiming the surname. With that name, females have entered previously male dominated fields. Race or shape was no longer a problem either. Backgrounds don't matter. Length of life doesn't matter. Lady Col has owned property for over a thousand years under her Nascerdios name, and no one's batted an eye. Daily actions are still very much gauged, though. If a winged demon turned up, they could pass as a Nascerdios if they walked through the crowd. But as soon as they used their wings to fly, or attempted to eat someone, the name wouldn't save them. Do you see the difference?"

Taylor rubbed at her temples. "I can kind of understand the concept, but how do you even _make_ something like that happen without mindbending everyone on the planet?"

Janesha sighed and sat back down on the sofa. "Okay, class is in session. Celestials one-oh-one. You know how power-bases and thralls work, right?" The look on Taylor's face prompted her to amend the question. "I mean, the principle behind it."

"I know what happens when you get a power base and how you can't fight against a thrall, yeah," Taylor conceded.

"Good." Janesha spread her hands. "Well, when you set up a realm, if you know what you're doing, you can institute a thrall for the whole realm that will affect everyone in a pre-determined group in a particular way. In Chaos for instance, Lord Belial's realm, there are the Damned. Anyone who ends up there as one of the Damned has certain strictures on them at all times. They can't escape, they can't fight back, they lose all hope and even the lowliest Hellion can easily push them around." She raised an eyebrow. "My Uncle Avis once spent a couple of years in Hell as one of the Damned. Long story; tell you later. Now, you'd think that one of the most powerful ranged benders in Creation, dropped in among a bunch of Hellions with no bending ability whatsoever, should've had the lot of them marching to his tune in about ten minutes flat, right?"

Taylor didn't rise to the bait. "I'm guessing that didn't happen."

"Fucking right it didn't. The moment Belial named him one of the Damned and got him into Hell, it was all over. He was lower than the lowest. Using his mind-bending would've meant resisting what they were doing to him, so he couldn't do it. Got it?"

"Got it." It sounded horrifying. Reality itself making them unable to fight back, even if they wanted to? _Screw that._

"Good. Now, in Earlafaol, my cousin's conditioning has put a similar thing in place, though with a very different effect. If a celestial declares themselves Nascerdios, mortals around them lose all critical judgement about what they're doing, unless what they're doing is blatantly impossible or illegal."

Something occurred to Taylor. "What happens if a mortal decides to pass themselves off as a Nascerdios? Tap into some of that fame and fortune?"

Janesha snorted. "Sorry, petal. Mortals just plain don't have the chops for that. Not only does the thrall prevent mortals from even seriously considering it, but you have to be a celest to make it work. It's like everyone's got computers, but we're the only ones with an internet connection to the right website."

"Right. Okay, that's weird as fuck, but it kinda makes sense." Taylor frowned. "So, you're saying there's a real connection between your cousin's realm, and ours?"

Janesha nodded. "I wasn't sure before, but now we've established that both realms have the same conditioning, hell yeah, I'm sure of it. If this was all just one big coincidence, that conditioning wouldn't be here. And that's going to make my life here a whole lot easier."

"But you've been telling everyone you're Janesha of Mystal."

Janesha shrugged. "And for the sake of official paperwork, I'll be Janesha Nascerdios of Mystal. I won't change the way I introduce myself to anyone, but the second my paperwork from the bank lands in the PRT's network, everything should smooth itself out." Her grin grew as she locked her fingers together and cracked her knuckles. "And unlike Earlafaol, this place has capes, which means it's game on for everything I can do, baby."

Taylor tried to make sense of what Janesha was saying. "So, if I'm understanding things correctly, we just need to go to the bank with a duffle bag full of gold or diamonds or both, fill out the paperwork, and they should automatically give you an account and accept what you want to deposit into it as a normal transaction?"

"Yup."

Slowly, Taylor shook her head. "That's nuts."

"Nope." Janesha grinned. "That's Nascerdios."

Taylor stuck out her tongue at her.

* * *

End of Part Eleven


	12. Chapter 12

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Twelve: Golden Revelations

* * *

 _[A/N: this chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by the author of_ _ **Ties That Bind**_ _, Karen Buckeridge.]_

* * *

"This still feels very weird." Taylor eyed the duffel bag that Janesha had slung over her shoulder. "And I'm not even counting the fact that you're carrying more gold in that bag than your weight and mine combined, several times over."

"And I'm not even breaking a sweat?" Janesha made an off-hand gesture as they strolled down the street. "Petal, I'm pretty sure I told you about how even the commoners of my people can bench a few dozen tons. This here's nothing."

"Well, that and the straps should've ripped clean off that bag when you picked it up," Taylor pointed out.

"Only if I let them." Janesha smirked. "Maybe you forgot. Matter is my bitch."

Taylor shook her head. "I hadn't forgotten. I'm just saying that it's kind of overkill to create something so heavy to take into the bank. I'm pretty sure even Kurt wouldn't be able to move that thing without a forklift. Why didn't you just make a backpack full of diamonds? Surely they'd be a lot lighter."

Janesha snorted. "Yeah, but then we'd have to go through a diamond exchange and each diamond has its own unique markers based on the geography it came from. I could replicate that easily enough, but that would detract from the value of the diamonds that actually came from that place. Unlike that stuff, gold is gold, is gold."

Taylor looked across at her and blinked slowly.

"What?"

"Well, look at you, caring about other people's financial situations. Anyone'd think you were human."

Janesha crossed her eyes and poked out her tongue. "Bite your tongue. You're just a bad influence."

"Or maybe the best kind."

The corners of Janesha's lips quirked. "Maybe."

They walked for another minute or two, when something Janesha said about the diamond exchange triggered a distant memory in Taylor. "Doesn't gold have to go through a specialist as well?"

Janesha nodded. "Yeah, but to save time, I want the gold dealer to come to us at the bank. Trust me, one call from the manager about how much we have and who we are, and they'll come running."

"Who _you_ are, you mean," Taylor corrected, knowing damn well the only attention she ever got from authorities was the wrong kind.

"Petal, we're both getting cards to this account, so it's as much yours as mine."

Taylor skidded to a halt. "What?" It was one thing to accompany Janesha to the bank and watch her open a multi-million-dollar account, and another entirely to have unfettered access to those funds.

Janesha paused as well and turned back to her. "What?" she repeated, as if she hadn't just offered Taylor enough money to buy and sell a small country.

"I can't take a card to all of that!" she hissed shaking her head. Well, not that she couldn't, but her father would have a fit.

"Why not?" Janesha didn't seem offended by the refusal. It was as if she was genuinely baffled by it.

"Well, it's not mine for starters."

Janesha's brow creased into a deep frown, but then, as if a lightbulb had gone off in her mind, her eyes widened and she shook her head in denial. "Oh, hang on. No. I'm not trading it for a boon. It's a genuine gift on my part."

"But it's too much," Taylor argued.

"What makes it too much?" Janesha countered. "The effort I put into getting it? Or the effort it's taking us to carry it to the bank? That's all we've done. Putting a different number in front of a heap of zeroes on a bank account to us is no different to _not_ having a different number at the front to you. If we run out, we'll get more. It's no big deal." Lowering her voice, Janesha stepped to her friend's side and said, "If there wasn't already a pantheon in charge over here, I'd be making this entire fucking world kneel to you, just for being my friend." She gestured at the backpack. "So, trust me when I say this is truly nothing."

That perspective was certainly eye-opening.

"Besides," Janesha went on, as if she'd never been interrupted. "Like most of my dad's kind, I prefer gold over diamonds anyway. There's something to be said about the shifting properties of gold."

"What shifting properties?"

"It starts out hard, but the second you apply heat, it melts into a liquid, ready to become another shape. And then a minute or two later away from the heat, it's rock hard again. Like all demonic stock, that ability to adapt to its environment seriously appeals to the shifter in me."

Taylor could sort of understand her logic. "Whereas diamonds don't change."

"Not easily, and not without rendering them worthless. To me, they're just sparkly clear-white rocks with no shifting potential at all. Big deal." With her free hand, Janesha rubbed her chin. "I mean, there's a reason more of us have powerbases and thralls linked to gold in some way than diamonds. Think about the legends: golden apples, the Midas touch, the golden fleece and so on. And because we love it, you do too."

"I never thought of it like that," admitted Taylor. "But surely it goes the other way too, doesn't it? I mean, there's a lot more crossover between mortals and celestials than anyone really understands, isn't there?"

"No!" Janesha snapped, way too quickly to be anything other than a defensive stance. When Taylor raised an eyebrow, Janesha screwed up her nose. "I mean, maybe a little bit, but not enough to matter."

"But don't the mortals dictate your powerbases?"

"Technically, but that's not the same thing."

"Oh, come on, Janesha. You can't be that delusional." When her friend continued to scowl, Taylor shouldered her half a step sideways to try and lighten the mood. "Don't be like that. It's not a bad thing …"

"Are you kidding? It's a horrible thing. To think that mortals influence us like … like…"

"Like the way you influence us?"

Janesha' scowl darkened as though she'd just bitten into a cosmically sour lemon. "That's the way it's supposed to be."

"Says who?"

"Says …ummm … " Janesha paused and frowned thoughtfully. "It's just the way it is," she insisted, waving her free hand dismissively.

"Cop out," Taylor said in a sing-song voice.

"Bite me," Janesha shot back in the same tone as she stepped out towards the bank.

Taylor chuckled and caught up with her friend in three long steps. "Seriously though. What's wrong with thinking we can influence each other?"

"You don't live long enough to have a decent grasp on things. I'm sorry, petal, but you just don't. Going back to that ant analogy, would you like it if individual bugs influenced your choices in the human world?"

"But we're not ants …"

"Taylor, I sit at a table with cousins and siblings that are tens of thousands of years old, and we're _all_ still treated like kids by the elders. It's not that I'm picking on you. It's just that when you only live such a short life, it's difficult for us to value what you can offer. I'm learning how to while I'm here, but I'm also trying to explain why I'm having such a hard time of it."

"But you're only sixteen too, aren't you?"

Janesha nodded.

"And do you think you have nothing to offer?"

Janesha sighed. "Nothing they'll listen to, yet."

Taylor pounced on the opening. "But what do _you_ think about what you can offer? If you really believe you can offer nothing, why'd you bother standing up to Thor at all?"

"Because I'm Mystallian, and that asshole pissed me off."

"And I'm human, and I want to matter too."

Janesha put the bag on the ground and turned to face Taylor squarely. "You matter to me," she said, placing both hands on Taylor's shoulders to convey that sincerity.

Taylor felt her lips curl upwards and the two hugged in the middle of the sidewalk.

Over Janesha's shoulder, Taylor caught sight of a large male adult stoop as he walked past Janesha's duffle in an attempt to sweep it up and keep going. He made it as far as the give in the fabric before he was yanked to a standstill.

Somehow, Janesha must have also known about the attempted robbery, for she pulled away from Taylor and turned; her smile both predatory and full of amusement. "You all right there, sport?" she asked. Hastily, the guy let go of the bag and ran off, disappearing into the crowd.

"Oh, my god! Holy shit, that was great!" Taylor laughed until tears ran down her face. "We should leave a bag on the street, just to see how many people try to do that!"

"I can if you want."

Still laughing, Taylor shook her head. "Nah. People will open it and empty it in the blink of an eye. But still, that was brilliant." She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "Oh, I can't wait to tell dad about it."

Janesha grinned and threw an arm over Taylor's shoulders, then led her to where the bag was and swept it up in much the same manner as the thief had tried. Taylor hooked her arm over her friend's far shoulder as well, having grown used to the strange looks they garnered from those around them.

"Promise me you won't bite my head off," Taylor said, as the pair slid apart until their arms were locked at the elbow.

"Literally or figuratively?' Janesha asked, with a cocky flick of her eyebrows.

Taylor blew a raspberry at her friend. "You told me about how your Uncle Chance got ambushed by your mortals and how he ended up as a genie for them for a little while."

"This again?" Janesha groaned, and Taylor patted her forearm.

"Hear me out. How does everyone know about things like that, but can't bring themselves to acknowledge the influence goes both ways?"

"Because if we admit it, we then have to give their individual existences credence," Janesha replied. "And every time we talk about this, it upsets you. Why do you keep bringing it up?"

"Because I want to see if I can change _your_ view of it. I don't care about the rest of your family. They can be as stuck up and horrible as they like. But you're my friend, and it kills me to think you see us all as nothing more than a means to an end. Your eternal power depends on what we think of you, and you think it's okay to treat us like dirt every chance you get." Taylor looked at her askance. "That's not right."

"But you _also_ impose our thralls on us." Janesha slid her eyes to her right where Taylor walked at her side. "If an established celest dies, it's _specifically_ because some bunch of mortals who've never met him decided that it would be cool if this god died in a particularly weird or fucked-up way. Because you'll never see a thrall setting a god up to die peacefully in bed after a long and fulfilling life. It's usually painful and quite often humiliating. And the worst thing is, the god knows it's gonna happen. Everyone around them knows it's gonna happen. And the god is _perfectly fine_ with it."

"So, what you're saying is that when you become established, mortals give you stuff and they take stuff away, and you hate it because you can't get angry about what they're taking away." It suddenly occurred to Taylor that she no longer heard the sound of traffic or anything else around her. At some point Janesha had covered them in her sound-proof bubble to keep their conversation about celestial matters private. A good idea, and she was going to have to watch that.

"I don't want to fight with you, Taylor."

"I don't want to fight with you, either. I just want you to open your eyes and see what it is you've been brainwashed into believing." Taylor scooted past her and turned into her path. Both hands went up to stop her. "Please."

Janesha pulled up short, then closed her eyes and pinched her lips into a tight line. When she opened them again, there was a strange glint to them. "Don't beg, Taylor. Not to me. I don't like it."

Taylor frowned. "I wasn't …"

"What do you think 'please' at the end of a request is?"

"Some would say it's manners."

"And others would call it begging. I don't want you to beg me for anything. Not you."

Taylor ran her tongue over her lips. She had to pick her battles with Janesha and making her celestial friend see the truth of their twisted ideology was her first priority. "Just, consider what I said, Janesha, okay? _Really_ consider it. That's all I'm asking."

Janesha let out a light huff. "Fine. I'll _consider_ it." She lifted her eyes over Taylor's head and said, "We're here."

Taylor turned, not realising she had jumped on to the first step of the bank to get in front of Janesha. Accepting they were at their destination, she dropped her hands and moved to Janesha's side as the pair made their way up the stone steps.

"Now remember, they need to hear the name 'Nascerdios' before it takes effect," Janesha said.

"So, let you do the talking?"

"Let me do the talking."

The glass doors hissed open in front of them. Taylor quirked a grin. "You know, I wouldn't miss this for the world. If it was anyone but you told me what was about to happen, I'd call them nuts."

They crossed the threshold into the bank. Taylor looked around with interest, then stepped back as an intimidating bank guard approached them. Janesha in turn, moved forward and gave the guy a bright smile. "Hi. Is your manager about? I'd like to open an account."

The guard looked the two over but returned his attention to the caped individual. "I'm sorry, but the manager is a very busy man. Accounts can be opened over there at the enquiries desk, provided you have the right identification and an adult to authorise the account." The way he said the latter, he knew damned well they didn't.

Janesha's grin turned sly. "Sure thing, slick," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And when I do, you'll then have to explain to your boss how you made a Nascerdios go to the enquiries counter to open a multi-million-dollar account because you didn't think I was worth his time."

The guard blanched and stumbled backwards half a step. As Janesha had said, he didn't doubt a word of their legitimacy once the name Nascerdios was mentioned. "Please, please … ahhh – wait here … Miss Nascerdios …"

Unlike outside, Janesha said nothing about the way he pleaded with her to stay where she was while he stepped away to talk into the radio on his shoulder. After a few clipped words, Taylor noticed on the other side of the bank, another guard surging up the stairs two and three at a time, pushing his way through the staff in his haste to get to the upper floors.

So, this was what it was like to be important. _Nice_.

Less than a minute or two later, Janesha and Taylor were ushered into a private room where a man in a pristine business suit danced and fawned all over them as if Janesha was the president himself. He apologised profusely for his fool of a guard and even offered to fire him if that would make Janesha feel better for any inconvenience she may have felt. Janesha seemed bored with the whole ass-kissing affair, but when the guard's job was threatened, she looked at Taylor to see if she had an opinion.

Taylor couldn't shake her head fast enough. "Leave him alone. He didn't do anything wrong."

The manager barely glanced at Taylor, before returning his full attention to Janesha. His rude brush-off had Janesha's bored expression morphing instantly into a vicious snarl and she launched herself to the front of her seat. "You _ever_ fucking dismiss her like that again, and you and I are going to have a very serious fucking problem. When she speaks, you listen to her as if she's one of my realm-damned family." She pressed a single finger into the table between them. "You understand me, sunshine?"

The manager's eyes widened in horror. "Y-Y-Yes … of course, Miss Nascerdios. My deepest, deepest apology." He broke eye contact with Janesha to look up at Taylor. "The guard will of course continue his employment here, just as you requested." He looked between the two. "Is that satisfactory?"

Janesha pinched her lips again and sat back in her chair, but whatever she was thinking, she kept to herself. Taylor made a mental note to ask her later.

The manager took their silence as a general reprieve. He mopped his brow with a handkerchief which he produced from his pocket and went back to the business at hand. "So … what do you wish to make as your initial deposit, Miss Nascerdios?"

Janesha unzipped the bag, allowing the glint of gold to shine through. "One and a half tonnes of gold bullion in two-pound bars, as a starting deposit."

"Miss Nascerdios, I'm afraid we don't have the facilities to exchange gold bullion for a deposit … h-however I'm certain we can work something out," he hastily added, as Janesha quirked a disapproving eyebrow.

"My friend and I would like to go shopping as soon as we're done here. What would you suggest?"

Taylor watched the manager's eyes dart as ideas came to him and were just as quickly dismissed. "I could have someone from the GBI flown in to assess the gold if you were seeking extreme expediency …"

"And in the meantime?" Janesha speak: _Not quick enough._

"Errm … it would be ... my pleasure to have the bank advance you a temporary balance of ten million until the figures are finalised later this afternoon. The GBI will of course, take their fees and the cost of the flight out of the deposit …"

"Of course."

As they spoke, a light knock on the door had the manager jumping to his feet. "Ahh—thank you, Miss Evans," he said, taking something through the gap in the door. Around their bodies, Taylor noticed someone's shoulder. Sending her bugs to investigate, she found that an armed guard now stood on either side of the opening. The manager returned to the table and scrawled his signature and the figure of ten million on various points of the paperwork. "This top one is our acknowledgement of your deposit being entrusted to us," he said, holding his gold pen out for Janesha to take.

Janesha took the pen and signed her name at the indicated spot.

"And this one acknowledges the temporary advance of ten million to be repaid upon completion of the gold evaluation …"

Taylor's mind swam with the figures they were tossing out as casually as confetti. Millions of dollars. Millions and millions of dollars. Janesha signed her name to each piece of paper like a pro.

"Taylor."

Taylor blinked, uncertain of when she'd zoned out.

Janesha held the pen out to her. "Here, petal. You need to sign these accounts too."

"Oh .. ahh—right…" she stammered, stumbling forward.

The manager looked between the two of them curiously, but if he had anything to say about the unusual arrangement, he knew better than to voice it.

* * *

Taylor shook her head as they exited the private office. Janesha was flicking her new bank card back and forth between her fingers like a world-class card shark, causing Taylor to look down at the simple piece of plastic she had clutched in her own right hand. The card that could, with a single swipe and pin entry, buy her almost literally anything she'd ever wanted. These ones didn't have their names embossed on them, though. Those were being rushed into production and would be in Brockton Bay from the bank's head office by first thing in the morning. These were the temporary ones that would do until then. "I saw it, I was part of it, and I still can't believe it." She flicked her eyes sideways at her friend. "And you promise no bending was involved?"

"None whatsoever," Janesha assured her. "Cousin Col set everything up like a gazillion years ago. She didn't want any of her mort—her people getting killed because they accidentally disrespected or stole from the … uh—powerful beings that came to visit her. And since this is a perfect replica of her home realm, acceptance of the Nascerdios name is embedded in the reality here too." She made the card disappear from one hand and reappear in the other, then jerked her head towards the office they'd just left. "That level of grovelling was how that guy personally felt about having a billionaire as a customer, and being Nascerdios took care of the 'you can't have your own account without an adult' and the 'where did you get the gold from' parts. I promise, I didn't do anything but supply the deposit." She held the card up and flicked her eyebrows again. "So, shall we go shopping?"

Taylor snorted. "Sure, but we're gonna have to work pretty hard to top the look on that manager's face when you unzipped that duffel to show them that yes, it really was full of gold bars." She looked around as her bugs registered a bunch of SUVs pulling up at the curb outside the bank. "Um … before we go shopping, I think you're about to have a new experience."

"Really?" Janesha looked at her curiously. "What sort of new experience?"

The side doors of the SUVs crashed open, and the armed men Taylor had detected inside surged out. Each of them was clad from head to toe in what appeared to be some sort of body armour, including helmets with closed faceplates. What they carried in their hands could only have been assault rifles; Taylor wasn't overly familiar with guns, but she could tell this much.

"I'm thinking … bank robbery," she said, lifting her chin towards the armed men now massing on the pavement outside. For the moment, they were out of sight of anyone not near the doors, but that looked like it would change very shortly.

Janesha glanced toward the doors, then at Taylor. "Do you mind if I use your eyes for a moment?"

Taylor shrugged. "Be my guest."

Even though she knew Janesha's mental scan of her memories would take no time at all, Taylor still somehow expected to feel something when it happened. She didn't, of course, and an instant later, Janesha rolled her eyes. "How is this any different from when the Merchants thought they could conscript me yesterday?" she growled.

Taylor looked around the bank. "There's a lot of innocent bystanders that you have to take into account, for starters."

Janesha glanced around the crowded room and huffed out a breath of frustration, as if she hadn't really thought about that part. And to be honest, she probably hadn't. "A little coincidental, don't you think, that within half an hour of making our deposit, dipshits one to twelve rock up to steal it?"

Right on cue, the armed men stormed up the front steps of the Brockton Bay Central Bank and burst in through the doors. "Everybody on the floor!" shouted one of them. A brilliant purple beam lanced out from his assault rifle and bisected a security camera. "This is a holdup!"

"'Coincidental' isn't the word you're looking for," Taylor observed as everyone around them dived to the ground. "A coincidence is when you're wearing the same blouse as the person next to you in class. This is—"

" _Down on the floor!_ " screamed one of the armed men. He and five of his compatriots were aiming their guns at Janesha and Taylor. More specifically, Janesha had five guns on her while Taylor had one. "Even if you're bulletproof, girl, I'm betting your friend isn't!"

Taylor frowned. While she and Janesha had nothing to physically fear from the men, there were other worries at play here. First, her father didn't want her outing herself, and she didn't want to disappoint him. Second, even if the men hit with every shot, bullets might still ricochet off her or Janesha and strike one of the bank patrons. It would be horribly ironic if _she_ ended up being the cause of an innocent bystander being hurt when she'd just warned _Janesha_ about it.

But she'd spent the last year and more taking far too much shit from Emma, Sophia, Madison and all their friends to just meekly lie down now. And she had a new weapon to use. "You're really going to steal Nascerdios gold?" she asked boldly.

The man who'd yelled at her before stepped forward, raising his rifle to butt-stroke her to the ground, but froze solid at the last two words.

"What was that?" he asked, cautiously lowering his weapon to his side.

 _Bingo,_ Taylor decided with vicious satisfaction. "This is Lady Janesha Nascerdios of Mystal," she said. "The gold you came here to steal belongs to her."

Janesha's eyes glittered dangerously and a wry smile crept across her face. Folding her arms in confirmation of the claim, she eyed the armed men as one might regard a puppy that's just tracked mud through the house and is now begging for a treat. "You really want to go there?"

"Shit." The guy stepped back. "Nascerdios?" He looked hard at Janesha, then back over his shoulder at his associates. "I didn't sign on to steal from the Nascerdios."

Despite the fact (that Taylor was absolutely certain of) the men had never even _heard_ of the name Nascerdios before this moment in time, all of them nodded in agreement. Most of them muttered 'fuck that' or some variation on the theme. Even the bank patrons, lying flat as they were, looked up at the would-be robbers as if they were insane for even suggesting it.

It was just one more example of bullshit celestial reality-warping. And Taylor had once thought _capes_ were bad for that sort of thing.

"Uh, I gotta call this in," the apparent leader of the bank robbers declared hesitantly, then found his backbone again. "Nobody move." He headed off to an empty corner near the doors, reaching up under the edge of his helmet to press a switch, or so Taylor guessed.

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

Thomas Calvert leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled together. Hearing about the surprise influx of gold from his contact in the bank had caught him on the back foot, but he'd assembled a team of his burliest mercenaries and sent them on their way. In the other timeline, of course, he'd thanked the woman for her service and then done nothing at all with the information. There was always the chance this was a trap, after all.

The plan was simple; storm the bank before they had a chance to move the gold into the vault, then ferry it out into the four SUVs and make a getaway before the superheroes had a chance to arrive. With the current price of gold as it was, one-point-something tons of the stuff would make a very welcome addition to his war chest.

The radio crackled, interrupting his musings. He frowned; the only reason they'd be calling him mid-mission would be if there was an unexpected snag. Unexpected snags were always problematic, mainly because they were unexpected. He pressed the button to activate his microphone. "Coil here. What's the problem?"

 _"Sir, the gold you sent us for is Nascerdios gold."_

Stunned, Calvert sat back heavily in his chair. Then he got mad. _Oh, for fuck's sake! What the hell are the Nascerdios even doing in Brockton Bay?_ "So much for a simple snatch and grab," he muttered under his breath, his mind racing to create a fallback position. Like all missions, he could drop this whole timeline if worse came to … _wait._ "Is the Nascerdios in question still there?" he asked, as a new and audacious plan outlined itself before him. Nobody stole anything Nascerdios-owned; that was a given. Their belongings were utterly sacrosanct unless willingly handed over. The operative word being 'willingly'.

 _"Yes, sir, but she's a cape, and a pretty confident one. Did you want to speak to her?"_

"No." Calvert sat forward, leaning in toward the microphone. " _You_ will. And this is what you'll say to her."

* * *

 **Brockton Bay Central Bank**

* * *

The helmeted guy turned around and came back toward the group. "Guys, we aren't stealing from the Nascerdios," he said, in the same tone of voice he might have used to explain that water was wet and the sky was blue. There were nods of agreement from all concerned. It was, after all, a self-evident truth.

Except for Taylor. For her, it was all a bit odd. Part of her brain was busy agreeing with the fact that no one questioned the appearance or the background of the Nascerdios and no one ever took the possessions of the Nascerdios by force. (The latter she assumed came down to how possessive the celestials were of their stuff. For beings that could create—or _have_ created—literally anything they wanted, they apparently tended to go more than a little batshit crazy when their stuff was touched). But another, more rational part of her brain, watched the scene from the outside and realised she was agreeing blindly to these restrictions despite how bizarre they were.

Either way, it seemed that the men had been stymied in their robbery attempt. "So, you'll be fucking off then?" she asked brightly. Having a celestial as her best friend was all kinds of awesome.

"Nope." The guy walked right up to her and grabbed her arm, then shoved the barrel of his gun into her ribs. Then he turned both of them towards Janesha. "If you don't give us the gold, I'm gonna spray her guts all over the floor. And if that still doesn't convince you, my guys are gonna open up on the crowd in here. So unless you want a massacre in here, Miss Nascerdios, you will freely _give_ us that gold."

Taylor tensed. Technically, it wasn't a _bad_ plan. While stealing the property of a member of the Nascerdios family was anathema to any mortal, coercing one to hand over the property via threats to a third party was entirely acceptable. For a given definition of 'acceptable', of course. The fundamental aspect they'd neglected to factor in was that they were now dealing with the celestial in person. The one person on the planet who could tell Scion to go to Hell, and possibly even make it happen.

Taylor had no desire to be responsible for Janesha's assets being stolen by a bunch of over-armed and under-scrupled thugs. It didn't matter if Janesha could create more gold at will; it was the principle of the thing.

Realising what she'd just thought, Taylor licked her lips and snorted. How was that any different from the possessiveness of the celestials that she'd mocked not ten seconds earlier? She began to realise, the celestials didn't care about what was taken … it was the principle that someone else had had the audacity to take it. _But what are we gonna do about it?_

According to Janesha, she was as tough and strong as Alexandria herself (unless there was someone tougher or stronger out there). That being the case, between them they should be able to mop these guys up in less time than it took to say, 'bad move, assholes'. But once more, the mental image of her father cautioning her against outing herself played in her mind's eye, and if Janesha didn't get them all really quickly, it was possible that some of the bystanders could be injured.

With a widening of her eyes, she shot Janesha a querying look that all but begged, _Can we clean these guys' clocks? Can we … can we … can we?_

At first, she wasn't sure if her friend had gotten the message, but then Janesha's gaze firmed up and ever so slightly, she shook her head.

 _Fine._ Hiding her disappointment, Taylor relaxed in the bank robber's grip, anticipating Janesha's lead. If her friend had a plan, she didn't want to mess it up. She watched Janesha's eyes carefully.

"Well, alrighty then," Janesha purred ominously. "I guess I'll be going to get my stuff. But you'd better not hurt anyone out here while I'm gone, especially my friend." She pointed down the corridor of offices they'd just come from. "It's in there."

Taylor's eyes flared in shock. "Janesha, you can't…!" She surged against the robber, pushing the guy back half a step.

Janesha held up her hand, bringing Taylor to a halt. "It'll be okay, Taylor. Chill."

Apparently, the back and forth was enough by-play between the friends to convince the leader of their sincerity. He nodded towards his companions. "Four, Five, go with her," he ordered. "Make sure she brings back the duffel bag full of gold that she carried in here, and nothing else."

"Sure."

"Yo."

Two of the men broke off from the group and strode after Janesha. Despite the fact that each man was a good foot taller than her and outweighed her several times over, she still managed to give the impression that they were under her command rather than a hostile escort.

 _Now, what are you up to?_ If celests as a whole hated their stuff being taken, Taylor could only assume that went doubly so for the denizens of Hell and any of their descendants. Taylor had half an idea as she watched them walk down the long corridor of offices, but she knew she would have to wait and see to be sure. Her eyes slid to the guard who was threatening her with the gun. Whatever Janesha had in mind, this was going to be _epic._

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

"This way, dipshits." Boots ringing on the marble floor, Janesha led the way with her cloak flaring out behind her. She pushed her way into the second office—one room past where the manager remained hidden with the real gold. Despite his fawning nature, Janesa couldn't really blame the guy for not wanting to die.

Passing through the second doorway, Janesha reached out and administered a subtle change to the makeup of the doorframe, so that when the door closed behind the two men, it stuck and bonded to the frame. The only way to open it from that moment on would be with power tools or via celestial shifting capability.

Coming to a halt, she turned on the spot to confront the two men. "And this is as far as you idiots go."

"What the fuck do you mean?" demanded the one on the right. "We don't come back with that gold, your little friend gets splattered all over the wall."

Or at least, he _meant_ to say that. He got as far as 'Wha—' before she finished bending his partner and turned her gaze on him. Thereafter, they both stood still and silent. Only the subtle movements of their breathing betrayed the fact that they were indeed alive.

"Stay," she murmured to both of them, and realm-stepped away.

Mass was everywhere. She could have claimed the office furniture, or a chunk of the floor to create what she needed, but Taylor really was becoming a bad influence, because she decided instead to go somewhere where mass wouldn't be missed. Like … the sands of Death Valley.

Arriving two steps later, she turned in a tight circle, to confirm her surroundings, and found not ten yards away, half a dozen men on mountain bikes staring at her. _Oh, for fuck's sake!_ Suppressing the impulse to just wipe away their memory of her— _Taylor wouldn't like it_ —she gave them a pinched smile and a fingertip wave and stepped back into the celestial realm.

 _What are the odds?_ she grumbled to herself as she stepped back to the mortal realm some three miles away. _The mortals rave about how dangerous this place is. So when I go looking for a quiet place to gather mass, what do I run into? Mortal thrillseekers. I will_ ** _never_** _understand these idiots._

Just as she had when she explained to Taylor how she and Emma had danced, Janesha flexed her fingers and pierced the tips of her gloves with her demonic talons, then bent down and shoved her fingers into the hot, dry soil. A few seconds later, she straightened up with a freshly-made boulder in her hands. By the time she'd shifted the boulder into a replica of her missing duffle bag, the sands of the surrounding area had filled the hole so that only the smallest crease in the surface indicated anything had been done. That was why Death Valley and other deserts around the world were her new go-to spots for mass gathering. For a third step, she could always go to the moon, but too many holes up there had already been done by others like her and the rock was beginning to resemble Swiss cheese (another 'faolian delicacy she'd grown to like after visiting her cousin).

Three steps later, she was back in the room with Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber. "Hello boys. Miss me?" she asked their frozen forms. "No? Good."

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

"Here you go." Janesha strode into the room, the two men trailing her. Boots clacking heavily, she stomped up to the leader and put the duffel down at his feet. A dull metallic clinking was audible from within. "One and a half tons. All yours. Now kindly take it and fuck off."

Without speaking, the armoured man gestured with a flick of his head for one of his men to come forward and check her claims

"You don't trust me?" Janesha asked, placing a hand over her heart as if she were truly crushed.

The leader grunted at her and tightened his grip on Taylor. The goon on his knees unzipped the bag and held up a golden bar for them all to see. It gleamed softly in the fluorescent lighting.

"Good," the leader said with a nod, causing the guy to drop the bar back into the bag and zip it up again. He then flicked the barrel of the gun to Janesha. "Now, you carry it outside and put it into one of our cars, and no funny business. We're on a tight time schedule here."

Taylor fully expected Janesha to refuse, or at least do something that thwarted the bad guys. But instead, the celestial girl scooped up the duffle's handles and hefted it up on to one shoulder. "Well, if you're too much of a wimp to do your own heavy lifting, I guess I'll have to do it for you."

And with that, she strolled out through the front doors, followed by the armed men. _What the hell?_ Taylor followed them to the doors, where from the safety of cover she watched Janesha approach one of the SUVs. _What are you doing!_ Leaning in with one hand on the door-frame, Janesha tossed the bag inside. It landed with a huge crunch that forced the vehicle to drop _hard_ on to its suspension. Stepping away, she folded her arms across her chest and flicked her head mockingly at the SUVs as if to say, 'Are you still here?' at the robbers.

Not needing any other invitation, the men swarmed into the other three vehicles. All four SUVs then roared off down the road, the one with the gold noticeably wallowing and lagging behind the pack. Janesha dusted her hands off and climbed the steps again, looking rather satisfied with herself.

Taylor stepped out from behind the doors. "So, uh, I guess we tear these up then?" she asked dubiously, lifting her card for Janesha to see.

"Pfft, _no_." Janesha flipped hers into the air, then caught it between two fingers. "That wasn't _our_ gold they took away."

Relief on a multitude of levels coursed through Taylor, putting a wide grin on her face. "I didn't think you were leading them into the right office." As she started down the stairs with Janesha beside her, she tilted her head. "So, what did you do? Make more gold? Isn't that, you know, rewarding them for trying to rob Janesha Nascerdios, by giving them what they wanted anyway?"

Janesha laughed out loud. "Petal, when the hell did you hear me say I was giving them _gold_?"

"But it can't have been gold painted bars. That goon that checked them would've known the difference, wouldn't he?"

"Yeah, if he'd ever held gold before, that guy would've figured it out, since lead's basically half the weight of gold. I couldn't take the chance. So what I gave them looked like gold and had the heft of gold …" She trailed off, her eyebrows wiggling up and down and her grin full of mischief.

"But wasn't." Taylor spread her hands. "Okay, so what _was_ it?"

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

Thomas Calvert watched the monitors as the four SUVs rolled down the ramp into the underground garage. His men had filled him in on the events at the bank, so he'd had them take a roundabout path through the city to throw off any potential traces. Part way through the evasion routine, they'd stopped in an out-of-the-way location and evened out the load of the gold bars across all four cars.

Police chatter was absolutely normal across all bands, and the PRT had no special operations running. He was sure as he could be that this wasn't a sting, but still he kept his second timeline running. He watched as they came to a halt and the men climbed out. There were hand trucks available, and the men started loading the gold bars on to them.

Ten of them, each sagging under the weight of three hundred pounds of gold, were wheeled into the base, along creaking catwalks toward Calvert's office. He was no more capable of assaying gold than the rest of his men, but he just wanted to hold one of the bars in his hand.

The hand-trucks rolled to a halt and he stepped forward to inspect their burden. Selecting one bar at random, he took it up and held it to the light to admire it. It was heavy in his hand and he turned it over to reveal a stamp showing a rearing horse with wings. A moment's thought recalled that Janesha Nascerdios of Mystal—and wasn't _that_ a pretentious title—wore the same sigil on the back of her cloak. Where she'd gotten it from, what mint produced it with that stamp, he had no idea. Still, it was gold. There were many, many shady characters who were just fine with gold as a medium of exchange. Melting it down to re-cast wasn't even difficult.

Replacing the bar, he gestured to the men. "Take it to the storage vault. You did well today."

"Sir," replied their leader. He started moving forward again and Calvert turned away to head back to his office. Almost as an afterthought, he dropped the timeline and re-split it. He was intending to pull an all-nighter, to find out all he could about Janesha of Mystal. At the same time, he wanted to get a good night's sleep.

Two steps onward, he heard one of the other men. "Sir? What's happening to the gold?"

A chill ran down his back as he stopped and turned. Curling up from the hand-trucks was a faint golden haze; as he watched, it thickened. The mercenary who'd spoken stumbled out of the cloud, clawing at the faceplate of his helmet. Falling to his knees as it opened, he vomited copiously across the catwalk.

An instant later, the stench reached Calvert's nostrils. It was the worst thing he'd ever smelled, and that included every nightmare-inducing experience he recalled from Ellisburg. It grabbed his sinuses and plated the back of his skull with them. Stumbling away, he almost made it to his office before he threw up.

As uniquely unpleasant as it was to throw up inside a one-piece costume, things actually got worse from there. The smell didn't go away. It didn't get any less horrific. If anything, it became even more inconceivably unbearable.

Coughing, choking, spluttering, fully aware of the horrible things squelching around his ankles, Calvert stumbled up out of the base along with his mercenaries. Golden vapours wafted after them, at least until one of the men slammed the door and locked it firmly.

They kept moving, away from the door, seeking clean air. The smell didn't go away. Wiping tears from his eyes through his costume wasn't easy, but Calvert finally managed to clear his vision long enough to ascertain that the golden haze he was seeing wasn't airborne. It was impregnated into his costume, and layered on to the armour and helmets of his men.

And the smell. Just. Did. Not. Go. Away.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

By the time Janesha finished her tale, sirens were wailing in the distance and Taylor had had to sit down on the steps until she finished laughing. Red-faced, with tears running down her cheeks, Taylor finally straightened up, leaning on the stair rail. "I-I'd say I c-can't believe y-you did that," she gasped, still hiccupping with hilarity. "B-but I _know_ you."

Doing her best to look innocent and failing miserably, Janesha buffed the nails of her right hand against her doublet. "A stinky-ass present for stinky-ass bank robbers," she explained.

"So how did you manage to make it do all that?" asked Taylor, genuinely curious now. "I mean, gold is gold and thioacetone is thioacetone. How did you make one thing act like the other?"

"Hold that thought, petal." Janesha held up her hand as cars and bikes came to a screeching halt at the curb in front of them.

Police piled out of the vehicles and aimed guns over the hoods of the cars. **"Hands where we can see them!"** someone ordered through a bullhorn.

"Stand down!" a voice commanded from above. A figure clad in classical Greek armour flew in and landed on the step beside Taylor and Janesha. Taylor knew who he was, of course.

"Janesha of Mystal is one of the good guys," Dauntless continued.

"And it was her gold they were trying to steal," Taylor added, still lying on the steps with tears streaming down her face. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to see the looks on their faces when they open that bag again."

Dauntless looked between the two. "What did you do?" he asked, his lips already curling in delight even though he hadn't heard the story. Just the expectation of it seemed to be enough for him.

"Well, you know how I shifted all those wrecks into chunks of steel on the dock this afternoon …"

* * *

 **Ten Minutes Later**

* * *

Janesha had needed to repeat the story a third time for Armsmaster, who barrelled through the crowd and made his way up the stairs. By that time, Dauntless had joined Taylor on the stairs, his Arclance lying on the steps beside him, and even some of the police and PRT seemed to have a hard time containing their amusement.

Only Armsmaster maintained his stoic expression, if the thin line his lips took on was anything to go by. "Just so that my paperwork is all in order, how can you be so sure your effect will target the right individuals and not innocent bystanders?"

"Because I set it up so that it will turn into a highly offensive gas only once it encounters the person who ordered my gold to be stolen. Not any of his or her dipshit lackeys. You've seen the sort of stuff I can do, Armsmaster. Do you really think this is outside my capability? When people like Bakuda can make DNA-keyed bombs at will?"

"And what exactly will happen once it does come in contact with that person? How far will this stink-bomb you've created spread?"

Janesha shrugged. "I have no idea how soon it's going to trigger, because I don't know when those assholes' boss is going to take the time to gloat over his ill-gotten gains. It won't bother us anyway, because I've put a one hundred metre range on the dispersal point. It won't spread past that, but anyone inside that range will be covered in it. Their clothing, skin and hair end up gold-coloured, and they just keep on stinking, even when they move out of the hundred-metre radius."

Dauntless snorted with amusement. "So basically, whoever these guys are, they're gonna end up looking like Scion. Only a lot smellier. Should be easy to round them up, wouldn't you think, Armsmaster?"

"Like who again?" Janesha turned and stared down at Dauntless.

"Scion. You know—big guy. Gold. Top of the heap, super-wise. He … what?" he asked, as Janesha's expression went surprisingly blank. Taylor found herself wondering the same thing.

Janesha shook her head. "Nothing. If that's all, guys, Taylor and I have a tonne of retail therapy to catch up on. I think it's fair to say we earned it after this afternoon at the docks, wouldn't you?"

"Janesha!" Armsmaster called, as the teenagers made their way to the bottom of the stairs.

The celestial girl turned to him. "Yeah?"

He followed her down the stairs. "Do either of you have a phone or communications device?"

Janesha looked at Taylor, who shook her head. Janesha then looked back at Armsmaster, who was in the process of looking skyward, probably for patience. "I didn't think so," he said, when he looked back at them again. "But you really need to get one. Especially you, Janesha. A lot of this could've been avoided if you were the one to call it in."

Janesha shrugged. "We can add it to our shopping spree."

"Do that, and once you have, swing by the Protectorate building. We'll hook you up with certain numbers so you can call this sort of stuff in directly to us." His head twisted to the left and back again. "I'll give you my direct number as well, just in case you need me on the scene."

Janesha nodded, her face unreadable. "Appreciate that. And since no one was actually robbed, we'll be on our way." She went to step away, then paused and turned back. "When I do bring a phone in, you'll let the PRT know it'll be a really bad idea to try and use my phone for any kind of tracking, right?"

Armsmaster's mouth opened and he shook his head. "No … I mean, yes, of course. I wasn't planning on using it for that."

Janesha grinned as if all her Christmases came at one. "Sweet. Catch you around, Armsmaster."

As the teens walked away, Taylor waited until they were clear of the authorities before turning on Janesha. "What was that all about?"

"Armsmaster being Armsmaster. He can't help himself. He sees me as his personal piece of glory, and anytime I get up to something without asking him to help out, he feels slighted. The direct number was so that he could be first on the scene."

"Are you going to do it?"

Janesha looked back in the direction they'd come. "I don't know. It makes him feel special to think he's got an in with me, so I probably will." She saw Taylor grinning at her. She frowned and added, "What?"

"Not a damned thing," Taylor said, sliding her hand through Janesha's arm. "But why that blank look when Dauntless mentioned Scion?"

Janesha's expression darkened instantly. "Because all this time I've been trying to figure out who's in charge over here, and it's been staring me in the fucking face!"

"Wait, you think it's Scion?"

"Golden glowing body and sitting at the top of the powered food chain? Hell, yeah, he's at least one of them."

"Wow." Taylor blinked, her worldview shifting yet again. She'd seen images of Scion on TV and in magazines since she was old enough to recognise him; her parents had made sure she only saw the post-bodysuit era images, of course. _Scion has golden skin and hair._ She didn't even think it was unusual anymore. "So … Scion's a celestial? A _god_?"

"Yeah." A grimace crossed Janesha's face. "The trouble with having goddamn capes all over the place? I have trouble sifting out the potential celests from the powerful capes. Of course, Scion's head and fucking shoulders above the rest of them and he _glows with a golden light._ I should've seen this the moment I set foot in this fucking realm."

"So you think any _other_ superheroes are celestials?" Taylor was still coming to terms with the idea that Scion was a celestial … a _god._ That the 'most powerful cape in the world' was that way because … well, he had godly powers. That they'd had a literal _god_ flying around, rescuing cats from trees and people from burning buildings, for nearly thirty years.

Janesha made a throwaway gesture. "Jury's still out on that. I haven't seen anyone who jumps out at me." She paused. "Yet."

"So what are you gonna do about it?" asked Taylor. "Stay out of sight? I mean, is he likely to think you're trespassing in his realm and get pissed at you?"

"Fuck, no." Janesha shook her head. "I'm gonna go have a talk with the asshole and find out what his game is and why this place looks so much like Cousin Col's. Then I'm going to ask him why he's treating you mortals so shittily."

Taylor sighed. _Why did I even suspect you might act differently? Mystallians have gotta be Mystallian._ "So, when are you planning on having a chat with the most powerful cape in the world, anyway?"

Janesha looked around. They were passing by an electronics store. TVs in the window showed breaking news. A golden figure in a pure white bodysuit was hovering in front of a burning building. "How about now?" She glanced at Taylor. "Sorry about our shopping trip, but you can still go ahead and shop for both of us, yeah?"

"I guess." Taylor shrugged. "Go. Chat. Have fun. Let me know if me and Dad have to set another place for dinner."

Startled, Janesha laughed. "Yeah. I'll do that." Looking at the TVs, she studied the background. Taking a step forward, she vanished.

"And Janesha's gotta Janesha." Taylor chuckled and shook her head. Then she looked down at the card in her hand. The card with _ten million dollars_ backing it up. She smiled.

Times like this, she decided, deserved some retail therapy.

* * *

 **Cauldron Base**

* * *

"Fortuna! Fortuna!" Clare ran through the base that was luckily empty of everyone but the three celestials. "We've got a fucking _situation_!"

Dorian was hot on his heels though Clare, being slightly taller and more wiry, had the advantage of speed over his more robust brother. With a flying dive, Dorian was able to capture the psychic of their team with a throttle hold around the neck that dragged him to the ground … just outside Contessa's quarters. Contessa's door opened as Dorian was about to lay a fist into his brother's face. "Situation?" she asked; a titch of her teeth and tongue all the indication she needed for Dorian to let him go. "What kind of fucking situation?"

Dorian immediately released Clare and kicked him towards their commander.

"It's the little Mystallian whore!" babbled Clare, scrambling to his feet. "She wants to talk to _Scion_!"

Dorian and Fortuna stared at each other in horror. It wasn't certain which of them spoke first. "Fuck."

Fortuna kept talking. "Okay. There's no fucking way we can let this happen. We need Scion to _murder_ her, not fucking _talk_ to her." She held up a finger. "Neither of you fuckups move a fucking muscle. I need to figure out a way to prevent this clusterfuck from getting any _more_ fucked up and get back on fucking track." A moment later, her expression cleared. "Clare. Coil. What's his attitude toward the Mystallian bitch?"

Clare snorted. "Pissed as fuck, to be honest. The little slut just honey-trapped him with shifter gold." Briefly, he outlined the current situation.

"Fucking _perfect._ Okay, Door me to Coil. Let's get this party started."

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

It didn't matter that his sinuses were clogged up; the all-pervading stench continued to assault them anyway. At least he'd managed to borrow a knife from one of his mercenaries so that he could cut a hole for his mouth. He hadn't thrown up in the last thirty seconds, but that didn't promise anything for the future.

His first move had to be to get away from the base. The spreading miasma, as horrific as it was, would no doubt draw official attention. But there was a problem. The armour of his mercenaries was uniformly coated with a golden film, as was (when they took their helmets off) their skin. It took only a moment for him to slice a hole in the part of his costume that covered the back of his left hand. Beneath … his skin was now a uniform golden sheen. Water from a canteen (also taken from a mercenary) didn't wash it off.

He had no fucking idea how he was going to deal with this shit, but Janesha Nascerdios of Mystal was going to _die_.

* * *

 **Contessa**

* * *

The instant the Door opened, Fortuna smelt the astoundingly powerful odour. Behind her, she heard Clare and Dorian gagging, but she had a job to do. She stepped through into what turned out to be an underground garage populated by staggering, stumbling golden-hued figures. Behind her, the Door closed. She'd already turned off her senses of smell and taste by this time and she knew that if her idiot brothers had any sense, they'd have done exactly the same thing.

Coil, or what was left of him, was leaning up against a concrete pillar, throwing up bile. Fortuna surreptitiously slid the seclusion ring from her finger. While this opened up her bending ability, she hadn't done it for this reason. Removing the ring also gave her access to her attunement of the realm, which allowed her to transcend normal celestial capabilities by a _long_ way. In this case, she told the golden stinking fog to go away, the effect spreading out from her and encompassing Coil and his men before continuing onward into his base. Her goal achieved, she slid the ring back on before Davin (or anyone else from home) had the chance to try blood-linking to her. If she and the others were to have any chance of escaping the sin-bin, they had to _finish_ this shit before reporting in.

By the time she reached Coil, he once more possessed his natural skin tone and mostly inoffensive body odour. She didn't do anything about the evidence of his stomach upset; that was his problem to deal with.

"Coil," she said flatly. "This makes yet another favour you owe us." Using her innate luck, she positioned herself so that only he could see and hear her. Wiping his men's minds would be entirely possible, but it would also involve removing the ring again, and she didn't want to push her luck with home too far.

"So it seems." His voice was rough from vomiting. "And you wouldn't be here, if you didn't need something from me." It wasn't a question.

Fortuna's smile was colder than liquid helium and sharper than a monomolecular dagger. "We want you to kidnap Taylor Hebert. Kill her if you have to. Just get her away from Janesha of Mystal and keep her there."

Coil's answering smile turned equally nasty. "That will be my genuine pleasure."

* * *

End of Part Twelve


	13. Omake: Celestial Hamster

**Celestial Hamster**

* * *

A non-Worm Mystal one-shot.

* * *

 _[A/N: This story beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]_

 _[A/N 2: This story is set after the point at which Mystal begins to catch up with Earlafaol, technology-wise.]_

 _[A/N 3: This story is not part of the main Celestial Worm narrative. It's a silly little one-shot that I wrote.]_

 _[A/N 4: This story was inspired by a line out of_ _ **The Long Way Home**_ _(sequel to_ _ **Ties That Bind**_ _, soon to be published) noting that hamsters get more respect from celestials than mortals do.]_

* * *

Chance, the Mystallian God of Luck, was bored.

Bored, bored, bored.

Normally, he considered himself the luckiest god alive (because _duh_ ) but just that morning, his lovely wife Emi (Goddess of Love, Lust and Fertility, and living proof that the phrase 'getting lucky' was divinely inspired) had taken the kids off to visit her family. Someone's birthday or something; he was hazy on the details. He'd chosen not to go, and now he was bored out of his celestial skull.

He could cave and blood-link to Emi, but that would mean he'd made the wrong call. He _never_ made the wrong call. Even outside Mystal, his innate good fortune invariably meant that whatever call he made was _always_ the right call.

But now he was bored.

 _Realms damn it._

With a gusty sigh, he raised his hand to make the gesture, but at the last moment he changed his mind. Fewer things were more stubborn than a Mystallian who'd decided to dig their heels in, and Chance's luck allowed him to get away with being more stubborn than most. "Barris!" he called as he made the gesture.

The blood-link opened, but when Barris appeared, he was holding his finger to his lips. Behind him, there was dense foliage. Barris held something that looked vaguely like a bow, only it seemed to have far too many strings to it, attached to pulleys. Maybe it was some kind of harp?

"Sh!" admonished the Mystallian God of the Hunt in a harsh whisper. "I've been tracking this buck for three days now. If you distract me now …"

"Is that a _bow_?" Chance interrupted his nephew, pointing at the weapon. "I hope so, because if it's some sort of stringed instrument, Piper needs to have words with whatever musician crafted it." He could just imagine the sort of words the God of Music would have for someone who designed something that misbegotten.

Slowly, Barris facepalmed. "It's a new type of bow," he growled under his breath. "Cousin Col sent it from Earlafaol as a birthday present. I'm giving it a field test. Now will you _go away_!"

At that moment, in the background, there was the sound of something crashing through the undergrowth, getting farther away by the second. Barris' grip on the bow tightened until his knuckles showed white.

"I think it's getting away," Chance offered helpfully.

"Yes. I _know_ it's getting away," snarled Barris. He gestured and the blood-link closed, leaving Chance staring at the wall.

"Well, that was rude," mused Chance. "He didn't even ask me for help." His luck, he knew, would make child's play of locating Barris' prey again. He was equally aware that Barris' own powerbase would do much the same. Still, it was the thought that counted.

And now he was bored again.

Well, if Barris didn't feel like talking, maybe the boy's mother was feeling more sociable. It was always fun to challenge Mystal's Goddess of War to a game of blindfolded chess. His luck versus her ability to never lose a contest always made it an interesting encounter. Chance went to the shelf and took down the ornately decorated chessboard, the one with the mismatched pieces. Every single piece had its own history. Not only had each one belonged to a different mortal master of the art, but each piece had once been used to make the winning move in a game against an equally skilled opponent. Chance knew; he'd been there, every time.

It had taken him _forever_ to acquire that last white pawn.

"Armina!" he called, making the gesture once more.

Nothing happened.

"Oh, for the love of …" He scowled, the expression an unfamiliar one on his features. _"Armina!"_ The gesture was repeated.

Again, nothing happened.

His own _sister_ was declining his call. What was Mystal coming to? _Am I losing my touch?_ Leaning into his luck, he reached out to another shelf and picked up the coin that just happened to be lying there. "Heads," he decided. Wedging his thumb under it, he flipped it dexterously into the air. Over and over it spun, until it slapped into his palm. Looking down, he smiled superlatively. The profile of some long-dead mortal ruler looked back at him.

 _Mortal._

 _Of course._

Sliding the chess set back onto the shelf, he discarded the coin. It was unimportant in the grand scheme of things. But it had shown him the way. If he wanted something to do, he had to go down to the mortal realm and find it. _So be it._

Of course, once he got _back,_ Armina was going to need a good explanation for blowing him off. _It better have been a really_ ** _interesting_** _war, or all her luck's gonna be bad luck for about the next eon._

* * *

 **Mystal's Mortal Realm  
A City Not Unlike New York**

* * *

Perry Travis strolled down the street, a smile on his face. He paused by a trash can and brought his hand out of his hoodie pocket. The pathetic bundle of fur disappeared into the can, and he walked on. Nobody knew his secret, though the pet shops closer to where he lived were starting to suspect that something was up.

There were only so many places he could buy a hamster in the city, but it couldn't be helped. As much as he tried to draw things out, they only lasted so long. The little shit machines were so _fragile._ Still, it was fun to make them run to exhaustion and beyond on their little wheels; a squirt bottle was good for that. Or to chase them around the cage with a sharp pencil until they didn't know where to run. The look of desperation in their beady little eyes was like cocaine or something for him. Not that he'd ever tried cocaine; he wasn't _stupid._

He supposed some people would say he was a monster for what he did, but he had no time for bleeding-heart activists. At least he wasn't doing it to _people._ As much as he'd like to do it to some. Like that stuck-up little cow Mandy Jenkins at the coffee shop. Always giving him mixed signals, smiling to his face and refusing every time he asked her for a date. But he had no idea how to even arrange something like that, so he was sticking with hamsters for the time being.

He walked on up the block and pushed open the door to the pet shop. A bell above the door jingled.

* * *

 **Chance**

* * *

Stepping down from the celestial realm, Chance appeared in an alleyway. Per his luck, there was nobody there to witness his arrival. The alley was even fairly clean. He checked his clothing over—a decade or three out of date, but with his luck it'd show up as being charmingly retro—and walked out onto the street. A pair of sunglasses completed his ensemble.

Hands in pockets, he picked a direction at random and strolled along the pavement. Whatever his luck was directing him toward, it should happen soon. _Do I get to mess with some mugger's day?_ It seemed so … petty.

And then a door opened with the jingle of a bell, and a chubby little man walked out. He held a small cage with a hamster inside. "Mandy," he said as he passed by Chance. "I think I'll call you Mandy."

On impulse, Chance dived into the man's mind.

 _Perry Travis._

 _Likes to torture hamsters._

 _Savours their terror and pain._

 _It makes him feel like a god._

His eyebrows raised, Chance watched the mortal walk away. Within the cage, the furry brown hamster sniffed at the bars. His mouth twisted; for all their short lives, mortals had an _amazing_ talent for depravity and corruption.

But on the other hand … this sort of thing was _exactly_ what he needed. Mortal muggers were no challenge; he could leave them wondering which way was up with no effort at all. But a mortal who thought he was a god … _this is going to be_ ** _fun_** _._

Whistling a jaunty tune, he waited for that one moment when nobody was looking in his direction, and realm-stepped away.

* * *

 **Mystal**

 **Celestial Realm**

 **City of Pandess**

* * *

"L-Lord Chance!" The flustered pet shop owner fluttered her hands as she came out from behind the counter. "I'm honoured to have you in my shop." She gestured around at the menagerie which her shop featured. "We stock many strange and exotic creatures from all over the Known Realms. Which would you like?"

Chance pinched his chin, enjoying the moment. Slowly, he paced along the row of enclosures. The pet shop owner followed him, rubbing her hands anxiously over each other.

When he'd drawn it out as long as he figured he could, he turned to her. "So … do you have any hamsters?"

"H-hamsters, Lord Chance?" Her voice rose to a squeak.

"Hamsters." He waved one hand in a _come-on_ motion. "Little furry things. Like to run on wheels."

"Oh. Um." She paused, then her expression cleared. "I don't stock any, but my ten-year old niece keeps some …?"

"Perfect," he declared. "Ask her if she'll loan me her prettiest one. It's for a good cause."

The stunned look on her face, he decided, made this whole thing worth it. And he wasn't even half done yet.

* * *

 **Mortal Realm**

* * *

Chance realm-stepped into Perry Travis' apartment. Travis was bending over an elaborate cage in the middle of his living room. Straightening up, he dusted off his hands. "Get comfortable, Mandy," he said, then giggled in a thoroughly creepy manner. "I'll be back—"

Chance's mind-bending stopped him in mid-stride and mid-word. Walking past him, the god of Luck leaned down over the cage. He easily manipulated the cage door and reached in. Trustingly, the mortal creature within stepped on to his hand. He lifted it out, then replaced it with the one he'd bought in the celestial pet shop. As Luck would have it, they were virtually identical. Closing the cage, he leaned down to put his lips next to the bars.

"Don't make it too quick," he whispered.

The hamster wriggled its nose.

After one final modification to Travis' mind, so that he wouldn't notice the celestial intruder in his apartment, Chance settled down into the man's favourite armchair. He didn't intend to miss a moment of this.

A moment later, Perry Travis began to move again. "—before you know it."

* * *

 **Perry Travis**

* * *

Perry came out of the kitchenette with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then sat down beside the cage. Mandy was sniffing around her new surroundings, her little pink nose working nineteen to the dozen. She turned and looked at him, her bright little eyes disconcertingly intelligent.

He knew very well that he had no idea how to tell male hamsters from female ones, but he'd already decided that this one was called Mandy, so she was obviously a 'she'.

"Well, don't look at _me,"_ he said. "There's your hamster wheel. You're a little pudgy. It must be all those extra blueberry muffins at lunch with your hamster friends. You could stand to lose a little weight."

It was highly unlikely that the hamster actually understood his words, so it was just pure luck that the little critter decided to climb on to the wheel and start running. He watched for a while, waiting for it to slow down, but it didn't. The hamster wheel was turning at a good clip, and Mandy seemed to be settled in for the duration.

The longer he watched, the more irritated he became. Mandy wasn't supposed to be _energetic._ She was supposed to be _lazy._ Why else was he going to need to punish her?

Travis leaned back in his chair and reached for his sandwich, then frowned. The plate it had been on was empty. Had he eaten it already?

"Fine," he muttered. "You want to run? Run faster." Opening the hatch at the top of the cage, he reached in with his squirt bottle and gave Mandy a dose of cold water. Startled, she ran faster. "Hah!" he exulted, feeling in control of the situation again. "Want to be a smartass, you stupid little rodent? Who's the boss? I'm the boss."

Bringing the bottle closer, he squirted her again. This time, she stopped running, and turned to look at him. Slowly and deliberately, she stepped off the wheel.

"Who do you think _you're_ looking at?" Perry demanded. He aimed the bottle and went to direct another squirt at her, but before his fingers could squeeze the trigger, there was a flash of motion and the bottle was jerked out of his hand.

Astonished, he stared at the bottle. It was lying in the bottom of the cage, the squirt mechanism torn off. As he watched, the last of the water drained out of it. Mandy was sitting up on her hindquarters, front paws folded before her. Watching him.

"What the crap?" he demanded. His favourite pencil, carefully sharpened, lay on the table beside the cage. "You stupid little shit! You're gonna _pay_ for that!" Taking up the pencil, he reached into the cage again. One good jab with the sharp end would take the fight out of her.

There was another flash of movement, and a scorched sensation from his fingers. Scarcely able to believe his eyes, he saw that Mandy now had the pencil. As he watched, she put it in her mouth and bit it cleanly in half with a distinct _crunch_. Discarding both halves, she dropped to all fours and began to advance menacingly toward him.

"No," he muttered. "No fucking way." It should've been impossible for a hamster to be menacing, but there she was. The way her disconcertingly intelligent eyes were fixed on his gave him the absolute creeps.

Pulling his hand out of the cage, he secured the top hatch with shaking fingers. Then he backed away a few steps. He'd stop feeding her and giving her water, he decided. When she was starving to death, she'd realise who was boss.

Mandy reached the side of the cage and went up on her hind legs, front paws gripping the bars. He laughed harshly. "Not so smart now, huh? You're stuck in there. You got _nothing,_ you furry little shitbag!"

There was a metallic noise. Perry stared at the hole that had been torn in the side of the cage, metal bars wrenched aside and in some cases snapped clean through. Mandy stepped through the resultant gap, her eyes still fixed on Perry's. He began to back away. When he was a good ten feet away … she leaped.

The impact was like being hit in the middle of the chest with a hurled baseball. Perry's breath went out of him in one huge gust, and he staggered backward until he hit the wall. He stared down at the hamster clinging to his shirt with a horrified gaze.

"What's going on?" he demanded, his voice hitting a higher register than he would normally have imagined. "What _are_ you?" Bringing up his hand, he tried to brush the malevolent little beast away. Once it was on the floor, he'd be able to stamp on it. He'd crushed hamsters to death like that before.

Pain shot down his arm and he jerked his hand away, staring at his little finger, which was now somehow sticking out at right angles to the rest of his hand. Opening his mouth, he drew in his breath to scream, but the hamster scuttled up his shirt then leaped up to latch on to his nostrils. When it drew its head back, he was momentarily confused … then it headbutted him.

Hard.

He found himself lying on the floor with a ringing headache, with the hamster sitting a short distance away. As his head cleared, the hamster began to advance on him once more. Terrified beyond what he would've imagined possible an hour ago, he began to scrabble backward on his butt away from the horrifying little creature.

It followed him, step by step. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought he could feel its tiny feet shaking the apartment. _Stomp. Stomp stomp._

Clambering to his feet, he grabbed the broom as the closest thing at hand. He turned and swung it two-handed at the beast. In the next moment, the broom had been torn from his hands and flung back to the other end of the apartment.

The next thing to his hand was the iron his mother had gifted him with. He kept it on the counter in case she ever visited, but he'd rarely used it. Now, he picked it up and hurled it at the oncoming menace. The return throw nearly took his head off, before the iron crashed out through a window.

He'd had enough. Turning, he made a dash for the front door of the apartment. Yanking it open, he plunged through and slammed it behind him. Not bothering to wait and see if the little murder-beast could actually gnaw its way through an inch of solid timber—mainly because he didn't want to find out—he fled down the corridor to the stairs.

Panting harshly, he took the steps two and three at a time. The door to the street was just ahead. He was almost safe. He—

The solid weight smashed into the middle of his back. He was sent tumbling forward, rolling over and over down the stairs until he hit the door and crashed through it, ending up sprawled on the outside steps. Dazed, he lay there groaning, trying to figure out which way was up. Looking back toward the shattered door, he saw a little pink nose appear over the edge of the step.

"No …" he groaned. "No … please … no …"

The hamster jumped down a step and latched its teeth on to the bottom of his pants leg. It tugged. He felt himself shift a few inches. It tugged again, then leaped to a higher step.

As it began to drag him back through the doorway, he screamed and screamed and screamed for help, but nobody seemed to be around …

* * *

 **Pet Shop on the Mortal Realm**

* * *

Vincent Drysdale, pet shop owner, looked around with a puzzled air. He was sure he'd sold the hamster that had been in that cage, but now the hamster was back … oh, of _course_! He was thinking of that other hamster he'd sold that one time. _This_ hamster had every right to be there.

As he went over to refresh the cute little creature's food and water, he thought he heard the bell over his shop door ring, but when he glanced that way, there was nobody to be seen.

 _I must have been imagining things._

* * *

 **Mystal**

* * *

"So then," Chance said as the laughter died down, "she starts dragging him _back up the stairs._ "

"Damn," said Armina, giving the little creature snuffling around in the middle of the table a look of respect. "I _like_ it."

"Great, now you've done it," groaned Barris theatrically. "Now Mom will be breeding two-meter war hamsters, and we're all going to have to think of nice things to say about them."

Armina, still clad in her black plate armour but with her helmet on the table in front of her, raised an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

Chance smirked and leaned back in his chair as mother and son bickered.

Now, _this_ was more like it.

* * *

The End


	14. Chapter 13

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Thirteen: Lucky for Some

* * *

 _[A/N: this chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Karen Buckeridge, author of Ties That Bind.]_

 _[A/N 2: Rincewind, Ankh-Morpork and the Discworld series are the property of the estate of the late, and very great, Terry Pratchett. All hail Sir Pterry.]_

* * *

 **Foreword: On Prey**

* * *

On any world in any galaxy in any realm scattered around Creation, any creature which could be possibly designated as 'prey' will have sensory abilities that can detect the approach of predators before they actually make an appearance. (Anything that lacks this sensory capability quickly ceases to be known as 'prey' and instead takes on the descriptor of 'extinct'.) The exact mechanism for this varies from world to world, sometimes from species to species. In every case, once the prey detects its oncoming doom, the following thought process (or its equivalent) takes place:

 _Oh, shit. Something's coming._

 _Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go._

 _Run faster. Faster is better._

In fact, on one particularly weird world, described as being 'at the far end of the probability curve' (where some decidedly whimsical celests decided that flat worlds supported on giant tortoises via almost-as-giant elephants was the way to go), there exists (or has existed, or will exist) a certain wizard (or 'wizzard', according to his hat) who is (or was, or will be) an absolute (disc)world-class master at running away. In his calmer moments, he's known to espouse the opinion that thinking about where one is running _to_ is a waste of time, as the _away_ aspect is much more important.

But we won't go into that, because Ankh-Morpork is a silly place.

However, whether the prey in question is a freshman on the lookout for mischief-minded upperclassmen or a baby turtle taking its first dip in what amounts to an ocean full of teeth, it can be agreed upon that faster reflexes to augment the early-warning system is a really good idea. That holds true even if the nominal prey is something so powerful that ninety-nine percent of Creation would call it an apex predator.

It; or rather, him. Once known as Sagun Hawthorn of Earth in the realm of Earlafaol, now (due to a poorly-heard whisper) as Scion, the most powerful being on Earth Bet, in the realm known informally as Training Ground. Not that the locals know that there's a realm involved, or what it's called, or even that their world was being used as a live-fire Hogan's Alley for centuries before Sagun made an appearance and reshaped it (and them) for his own needs. Or even that Sagun/Scion is literally a god being jerked around by other celestial beings from behind the scenes, some of whom are feeding parts of his (semi)dead sister to not-altogether-deserving mortals in order to grant them superhuman powers.

To be honest, it's almost embarrassing how little the mortals of Earth Bet actually know about _anything_.

There just remains one final piece of information. Growing up in the realm of Earlafaol, Sagun had come to the realisation that he (along with his twin sister Edeena) was far more powerful than nearly everyone else on Earth. The word 'nearly' is very important here, as they found out when another celestial paid them a visit to tell them to keep their heads down. Agent Nascerdios, ostensibly of the FBI but far more significantly a celest of some power, ordered them in no uncertain terms to cease making waves. If they did not comply, she made it abundantly clear that she would force the issue. Terminally, if necessary.

Given the choice to bend the knee or leave Earlafaol, Sagun and Edeena opted to leave. But their encounter with Agent Nascderdios had left a deep and abiding impression on them. So, years later, when Sagun's celestial awareness informed him that there was a Nascerdios on Earth Bet and that she was specifically looking for him, he did not react like the (nearly) all-powerful being that he represented to the vast majority of the population.

He reacted like prey.

* * *

 **Scion**

* * *

Sagun barely knew why he was bothering any more. He'd come to this world and reshaped it in the image of Lady Col's Earth, all so that he could live out his dream of not just being a superhero, but to be a hero of heroes. The problem was, Edeena was supposed to be there as well. Without his sister, eternity had become … lacklustre. There was no point to it.

Still, he went through the motions, for want of something better to do. The ragged, angry man in England had shouted at him until he decided to go ahead with being a superhero anyway. He'd chosen not to cure the mortal's various illnesses as he had with the sister of the first mortal he'd granted powers to; there was no sense in encouraging that sort of behaviour, after all. They might start thinking that he actually owed them something, and who knew where _that_ would end?

Raising his hand, he let his stilling field spread out, snuffing the fire where it intersected with the apartment building. Really, something like this was utterly trivial to his power. Even using his native shifting, he could've demolished the entire building and reconstructed it minus the fire damage in a fraction of the time. But being a superhero required that he do things the flashier, more time-consuming way. People needed to believe in him, after all, and what they didn't see happening they couldn't believe in.

And then his head came up as new information impinged on his awareness. Back when he and Edeena had first set up the boundary, he'd made two slight variations to the realm's rules. One, if anyone claimed the name Nascerdios, he wanted to know about it. And two, he wanted to know what they were doing so he could avoid them.

Just an hour ago, someone in a city called Brockton Bay had called herself 'Lady Janesha Nascerdios of Mystal'. Now … she was looking for _him._ Personally.

The last time he'd encountered a Nascerdios, he'd been very bluntly informed that he was a hybrid, fathered on a mortal woman by the god Zeus himself, and his type were not welcomed by other celestials. Now there was another Nascerdios, on Earth Bet. Looking for him.

Based on what the redheaded shifter had said, all Nascerdios were celestials and the likelihood was high that this celestial had decided he needed to die because of who and what he was. And if she thought she could beat him … she probably could.

Even as space began to distort in the initial stages of someone realm-stepping into his vicinity, he stepped away himself. Let the building burn. It wasn't his building, and the mortals could find somewhere else to live. He emerged over Paris, swooping low over the city.

Just a few minutes later, he registered another realm-step. One that put the Nascerdios less than fifty feet away. He left immediately, randomly choosing the middle of Antarctica for his destination. _How the fuck is she finding me?_

It had to be because she was a Nascerdios. He'd watched Agent Nascerdios smoke a cigarette in space as if it was the most natural thing in the world even though she said she hadn't claimed the realm herself, so he assumed where real gods were concerned, anything was possible. Suddenly, he realised his life did mean something to him after all, and he was not going to let this intruder from Hell (hey, he didn't know for a fact she _wasn't_ literally from Hell) kill him just because he was half mortal.

With that thought in mind, he knew he had two choices. Fight or hide. And until he knew more about this Lady Janesha of Mystal, he needed to hide. Agent Nascerdios had shown him and his sister in no uncertain terms how woefully inadequate they were compared to her, and this one had the title of 'Lady', making her something more again.

Almost as if to prove the point, the pursuing celestial chose that moment to realm-step again. Knowing she'd appear in his vicinity, he stepped again, this time into one of the alternate versions of Earth. He'd reshaped this one into a pocket dimension that only he could enter (so he hoped) and stored the vast majority of his previous space-whale body in there. Re-merging with the body took only a moment, then he opened out all his senses, watching to see if the intruder would follow him here.

Hours passed. Nothing happened. His initial terror began to fade. _Who is she? What is Mystal? Why did she come here?_ It seemed a little bit of a stretch to come to a lonely realm in the middle of nowhere just to kill the hybrid in charge of it. None of this made the slightest bit of sense.

Relaxing as much as he could, he left his senses on high alert while he fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Janesha stepped through to where the golden man had been putting out the fire in the apartment building. Fire, check. Apartment building, check. Scion, no. In fact, it seemed that Scion had only just left, from the way people were pointing and talking to each other.

The trouble was, he hadn't put out the damn fire. While normally she couldn't bring herself to give a flying crap about a dwelling belonging to some insignificant mortal, the fact remained that they would be left homeless if _someone_ didn't do something about it.

 _Fuck it. I can always catch up with him once I've fixed this._

Cracking her knuckles, she strode up to the building, ignoring the shouts from bystanders and fire services to stay back. Once she had her hand on the structure of the building itself, she had two ways to deal with this fire. She could either tell it to stop being a little bitch and not be on fire anymore, or she could take the fire away from the building. Both were much of a muchness, but with the bad blood she'd caused with Piggot and how Taylor had specifically said "No" to turning her into a waddling bird, she decided to cultivate some local credence.

At her command, the flames stopped leaping skyward and crawled down the wall to her, infusing themselves into her body. This didn't bother her in the slightest; being descended from the Hellions meant she could endure Hellfire all day long. Compared to a flame that could turn the sun itself into a scorched cinder, a mere mortal blaze was nothing more than a gentle summer breeze to her.

When she'd absorbed the last of the flames into her body (and reduced the temperature of the building's structure to below ignition point _and_ repaired all the damage she could detect, just to prove she could) she turned to the attentive crowd. Not only were there the obligatory news cameras, but at least half the people had their phones out and recording. _Excellent. Get a load of_ ** _this_** _, Piglet._

Taking a step away from the building, she raised her hand in the air and vented the flames from her body, blasting them skyward in a tremendous plume. It took longer than Janesha would've liked to disperse the heat. Fortunately for her, Janesha knew how social media worked. It was why Lady Col had them try and keep their celestial abilities down to a minimum whenever they visited her. With or without mortal belief, the mortals of her world always knew where someone of significance was.

When the rumbling of the fire finally died away, she blew the last wisp of smoke from her fingertip, then dusted her hands off and put them on her hips.

It took the crowd a few moments of stunned silence to recover, then they started to applaud. Smiling tightly, she dipped her head towards the crowd. Accolades were all well and good, but she had a celestial to hunt down and Danny would be pissed if she missed dinner. Random checks of the people applauding confirmed that they saw her as just another cape; a very powerful cape, to be sure, but still only a cape. Not one of them was even entertaining the idea that she might be a god, or considering the concept of worshipping her.

 _Okay, maybe this stupid superhero idea has its good points. Anywhere else, I'd need an attunement and about a century of prep before it'd be safe to show myself like this. And even then, I'd probably end up as their goddess of fire. Yawn._

"Okay, crisis over," she announced. "But, I'm going to need to borrow someone's phone for a moment. I need to check on something." Because of course she'd had her epiphany about Scion _before_ she'd had the chance to actually buy a phone.

It was almost amusing how they more or less fell over themselves in their eagerness to loan her their phones. Scratch that; it was _definitely_ amusing. She took the first one and looked it over. Fortunately, it was already open, which meant she didn't have to dive into the owner's mind to learn the password.

It took just a moment for her to set up a query into any sightings of the golden guy. _Why did he just bolt like that? Is he that distractible?_ There weren't any notifications about new emergencies that she could find. With a frown, she studied the internal workings of the phone, then altered her senses to receive and decode the incoming signal.

When she handed the phone back, it was the next model up, because she believed in returning a boon for a boon. She also had a line on Scion's current location. _What's he doing in Paris?_ The image that had just popped up showed him standing on top of the Arc de Triomphe, with no emergencies in sight.

 _All right, then._ With a jaunty wave to her admiring public, she realm-stepped away. Where it was still late afternoon in the middle of America, in Paris it was nearly midnight. She stepped back into the mortal realm and quickly had to adjust her eyesight for night-vision … only to find herself alone on top of the immense monolith.

 _Oh, for fuck's sake. What's going on here? Did he suddenly notice something else he had to deal with?_

She reached out with her senses, looking for the signals she'd used before. It didn't work this time, which both puzzled and irritated her. There were nearly as many cell-phones in the continental US as there were guns, and there were _lots_ of guns. The rest of the civilised world had even _more_ phones than guns. Surely someone, _somewhere_ would be taking a picture of him if he was anywhere with a population and a signal. The trouble was, she was now unable to receive that signal.

 _Fuck it. I need to brute-force this._

Taking a deep breath, she realm-stepped back to the basement of Taylor's house. Cloudstrike whinnied and tossed her head as Janesha saddled her up and formed the bridle around her head.

"Ready to go exploring, girl?" Janesha swung astride the mystallion and shook the reins out. She laughed at Cloudstrike's derisive snort. "Okay then, let's go." Cloudstrike flared her wings open, then she stepped.

One brief transit through the celestial realm later, Janesha came out in midair. Leaning over to the side, she adjusted her eyes insect-like to give herself the widest field of view possible. Then she increased the magnification far beyond what physics would have deemed possible, had she not been a celestial. She applied the barest pressure of her heels against Cloudstrike's ribs; with a flick of grey-blue wings, the mystallion shot forward. Faster than anyone's eyes but hers could follow, she began the search.

Twenty minutes later, she'd covered the vast majority of the earth's surface. Cloudstrike was doing her best, but even she had to slow down just to avoid flying off the earth's surface. Worse, flying any higher risked missing Scion under cloud cover, of which there was altogether too much.

There was just one more continent to cover; she'd left it till last because there were no cities, no towns. There was virtually nothing there to generate an emergency worthy of Scion's time. Which meant he wasn't darting off to some crisis or other.

 _That mother-fucking golden-skinned asshole is avoiding me. Why?_

Antarctica's icy landscape rolled backward under Cloudstrike's wing beats as they quartered the continent, faster than the mortal eye could see. It seemed forever before a golden form came into view, standing atop a ridge of the Transantarctic Mountains. _Finally!_ Responding to her knee signals, Cloudstrike banked over and started her descent.

And then Scion took a step forward and disappeared.

 _Oh, for_ ** _fuck's_** _sake!_

* * *

After an hour of searching, even Cloudstrike was starting to show signs of annoyance. They had covered the entire surface of the Earth twice over, even the ocean and the Arctic, for zero result. The world's cloud cover was seriously disturbed (and a mid-Atlantic hurricane had been thoroughly dismantled) in the wake of their passing; she suspected mortal weather forecasters would've been cursing her name for some time to come, if they ever realised it was her.

 _Either he's hiding behind the moon, or he's underground, or inside a building. Or he's underground on the moon._ Any of those meant that Janesha would be looking for him forever. He knew Earth Bet better than she did; she was a quick study, but she was far behind the eight-ball on this one.

"Fine," she muttered. "Go hide like a little bitch. I'll catch up with you sooner or later, you chicken-shit prick." It didn't help her mood when she realised she was late by over half an hour for dinner, and would probably have to endure Danny's lecture on the matter, just as she would if she were late for a meal back home. But in her mind, she was justified. All she'd wanted to do was talk to Scion. Now, she wanted to throttle him, and if Danny gave her the lecture, she probably would.

With an irritated huff, she turned Cloudstrike's head for home. Cloudstrike whinnied and shook her head violently, then pulled a loop combined with a sharp barrel roll.

Janesha realised the problem immediately. "Oh, sorry, girl," she said. "You thought we were actually going for a proper ride, and I kept you flying around one planet. Over and over again. My bad, babe. I got caught up in the hunt … Well, how about we go out for a quick spin now, and I'll take you for a good long one later?"

Cloudstrike snorted and pretended to make a bucking motion. Janesha laughed and patted the mystallion's neck. "I know, I know. I promise, okay?"

Mollified, Cloudstrike came to a hover then raised her head to look hopefully toward the sky. Janesha nodded and shook out the reins, giving the winged horse her head. Cloudstrike whinnied and brought her wings down in a beat that sent a sonic boom echoing across the ocean. Together, they shot upward, reaching space a fraction of a second later.

As Janesha had said, they kept the ride relatively quick, not even venturing out of the local star cluster. Cloudstrike would definitely want to stretch her wings later, but with commitments back at Taylor and Danny's, Janesha judged this would do her for now. Cruising back into the solar system, she swung in past Saturn to admire the sun glinting off the icy particles that made up the rings. She wasn't quite sure where Lady Col had gotten her ideas for this realm, but some of the planets were quite artistic.

"Okay, you've had your ride," Janesha told Cloudstrike as they crossed the orbit of Jupiter and angled around to swing past Mars. She'd only ever met the Olympian god and his kin in passing, and she wondered what they thought about having planets named after them in realms that didn't worship them anymore. Or if they even knew about it. "Are you okay to go back to your stable now? I'll make some fresh hay for you."

The mystallion came to a hover over the blasted landscape of the dead world, and nickered forcefully. Janesha took that as agreement, as well as a reminder of the promise to take her for a good long flight later. "Sounds good to me," she said.

Wings barely moving, Cloudstrike took a single dainty step forward in midair. They passed through the celestial realm—Janesha belatedly looked around, but there was no sign of Scion there either—and reappeared in the basement stable.

With an aggravated sigh, Janesha dismounted and removed Cloudstrike's tack. She still had no idea why the golden-skinned celestial—there was no way the asshole could avoid her so completely without being one—was so determined to play keep-away, but she'd get him sooner or later.

In the meantime, she'd had a big day. It would be nice to relax with Taylor and talk shit about Sophia and the others. She paused just long enough to carry out her promise to Cloudstrike, by filling her net with aromatic hay, before heading up the stairs to the kitchen.

Danny was sitting at the kitchen table; he looked up as she entered the room and closed the basement door behind her. "Hi, Danny," she said, then looked round the room for Taylor. "Where's Taylor?"

"What do you mean, where's Taylor?" he asked, the tone of his voice betraying worry. "Isn't she with you?"

"No," she said blankly. "I left her at the mall nearly three hours ago. Unless she's still buying stuff, she should be home by now."

"Buying stuff?" He stared at her in a _please make sense now_ manner. "Where would she get the money for buying stuff?"

"Don't worry," Janesha said absently. "It's all perfectly legal. I even opened up a legitimate bank account and everything." She looked at the ceiling overhead. "You're absolutely certain she's not home already? Asleep upstairs, maybe?" Suddenly finding out that she was a millionaire had to be tiring, right?

"She's not." Danny shook his head. "I checked. Why'd you leave her at the mall? I thought you were keeping her safe."

She bridled at the cutting words. "Danny Hebert, do not use that tone with me." Folding her arms, she leaned her butt against the table. "Especially not with the afternoon I've had, chasing Scion all over the planet. Taylor's one of the very few mortals that I actually care about. I've made her as safe as I can. They can't injure her, break her bones or suffocate her. Physically, she's invulnerable. So if she's not home yet, it's not because she's hurt."

Danny paused, then shook his head. "I am _not_ going to ask why you were chasing Scion around the world. This is more important. _Taylor_ is more important."

He seemed to expect her to argue, but she nodded instead. "I totally agree. I can have words with that golden-skinned chickenshit any time. Right now, I need to go find Taylor and deal with whatever's delaying her." One possibility, however unlikely, crossed her mind. _And if she's been talking to a boy all this time, I'm gonna see if I can remember my dad's shovel speech._

* * *

 **Taylor  
Weymouth Mall  
One and a Half Hours Previously**

* * *

It was possible, Taylor conceded reluctantly, to have too much money. Before this point, she would not have accepted that statement, but now she felt the metaphorical weight of ten million dollars on her shoulders. _I can literally buy anything in any shop in Brockton Bay. I could probably buy_ ** _everything_** _in every shop in Brockton Bay._

The question was, what should she buy first? And more importantly, should she shop around to get the very best quality (as should be her responsibility, now that she could _afford_ the best quality) or just go for the lowest price, as she'd always done in the past?

The dilemma led to a weird kind of paralysis where she stood and looked around vaguely, knowing she could have _anything_ (even though storage constraints mandated that she couldn't have _everything_ ) but not knowing what part of 'anything' was the most important, right now.

 _Wow, so much for my shopping spree._

Picking a direction at random, she moved off through the mall. A jewellery store caught her eye, and she entered. The counter attendant looked up, registered her, then visibly discounted her as a customer of any substance. "Can I help you?" she asked, the surface politeness hiding an undercurrent of _Go away and stop wasting my time._

"Yeah," Taylor said. "I want to buy my Dad a birthday present. What do you have in pocket watches?"

"Our pocket watches are the very highest quality," the lady said firmly. She may as well have been waving a sign saying _And the highest prices. You can't afford them on your best day._

"Good." Taylor was getting a little sick of this passive-aggressive bullshit. Just because she didn't look like she belonged didn't mean that she couldn't buy stuff. "Show me the best you've got."

"I feel obliged to inform you that we do not do credit." The counter attendant hadn't moved.

"Do I look like I want to do credit?" Taylor rolled her eyes. "I said, I want to buy a pocket watch. Show me what you have."

The woman actually glanced around, as if to see if there were any other store patrons she could pretend to go serve. There were none, so she looked back at Taylor. "You realise, I won't be able to take them out of the case until I see proof of capability to purchase."

Taylor folded her arms. "Do you make everyone who walks in here jump through these hoops, or is it just me?" Normally, she would've accepted the woman's implicit judgement and walked from the store, feeling less for the encounter. But having spent more than a little time in the company of an actual celestial being—and with _ten million dollars_ in her purse, courtesy of the card she was carrying—her confidence had taken on quite a boost.

"Miss, am I going to have to call security?" The woman had clearly decided to deal with Taylor as a problem by making her go away. From the look in her eye, she was willing to go so far as have Taylor ejected from the store, or even the mall.

Taylor sighed. For all that she disliked it when Janesha used her bending, or even her raw celestial presence, to turn mortals to her will, she would've found something like that very handy right then. Lacking that, she fell back on the audacity of truth. "Why? For walking into your store and asking to buy something?" She took the card out of her purse and flourished it. "I guarantee you, I can buy anything you've got in the store out of the _interest_ from this account."

"I find that very hard to believe." The woman glared at her, in a polite and genteel manner. In the back of her eyes, though, Taylor thought she saw the faintest hint of doubt.

"So let me prove it." Taylor flicked the card back and forth challengingly and locked eyes with the woman. "Show me the best you've got, and I'll buy it free and clear."

The doubt was showing through more clearly now, but the woman set her jaw. Turning away from Taylor, she went to a cabinet and unlocked it. The pocket watch she took out was _gorgeous_ ; it was silver with gold highlights, the face inscribed with intricately chased Roman numerals. If the sheer beauty of it hadn't taken Taylor's breath away, the price tag would have.

"You can walk away now." The woman's voice was quiet. Carefully, she replaced the watch in the cabinet and relocked it. The key went back into her pocket, while her eyes tracked Taylor's hands. "Because when you swipe that card and the funds fail to clear, I _will_ call security."

Taylor rolled her eyes at the transparent attempt to intimidate her. "And when they do clear? Do I get to take my Dad's birthday present, along with a signed receipt, and walk out of the store with it? Or are you just going to give me more attitude?"

The woman's lips tightened. She pressed buttons, entering the sale figure, then pointed at the swipe slot. "Go ahead. When it fails to clear, we can have you charged with fraud."

That didn't sound quite right to Taylor, but she decided not to argue points of law with the woman. "I am so tempted to walk out of the store right now, just so I can buy the same watch elsewhere and come back to wave it in your face, and show you just how much commission you just lost." She shook her head. "But it's gonna be marginally more satisfying to see the look on your face when the funds clear." She brandished the card, then swiped it through the slot. With one finger, she tapped in the PIN the bank had supplied to her.

For one heart-stopping moment, nothing happened. The woman's lips began to spread in a bitter smile of triumph. Then the machine beeped and a green light flashed.

 **PURCHASE APPROVED.**

Taylor raised her eyebrows, trying (and failing) not to smirk at the look of utter astonishment on the woman's face. "So, can I have my Dad's birthday present now?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Or do I need to show you my birth certificate and passport too?"

"That can't be right," the shop assistant said blankly. "There's _no way_ that can be right."

"The funds cleared." Taylor shrugged. "What more can I say?" She gestured at the device, where the display still clearly read that her money was good. "So, one more time; I want my Dad's watch. Right now, please." She held out her hand and snapped her fingers.

"Just give me a minute," the woman said, turning away. But she didn't go to the cabinet. Instead, she slipped behind the desk and picked up the phone there. She spoke a few terse phrases, then slipped her hand under the edge of the desk; Taylor heard a distinct _click._

"Wait … did you just set off a silent alarm?" Taylor stared at her. "I _paid_ for it. The funds cleared. You _saw_ it."

"With a card that is almost certainly stolen." The shop assistant moved out from behind the desk, a superior expression on her face. "We've got the card details, now. The police will have them soon, and we'll be finding out exactly who you lifted it from. You can run now, if you want. We've got your face, too. The details on that card will be all over the mall in the next ten minutes, so you may as well leave it here."

"Seriously?" Taylor was having trouble processing this. "Now you're accusing me of _theft?_ For buying something with my _own money_?" Janesha's money, she amended silently. But still, it was legitimately acquired (for a very weird definition of 'legitimate') and to be accused of theft was positively annoying.

"I very much doubt that card belongs to you." The woman sneered at her. "Hand it over now, and the police will go easier on you." She held out her hand expectantly.

Taylor snorted and shook her head. "You have got to be fucking joking." She held out her own hand in turn. "I've paid for that watch. I expect you to put it in my hand, or _I'll_ be having _you_ charged with theft. For taking my money and keeping the watch."

"You're a _teenager,_ " the woman said dismissively. "You're what, fifteen? A minor. There's no way someone like you can afford something like that. Not wearing clothes like _that._ "

"Excuse me, miss." The voice was that of a man, from behind Taylor. She half-turned her head to look. Two large men wearing security guard uniforms stood there, thumbs hooked in their belts. "We're going to need you to come with us. What's the situation, Janice?"

"She paid for something with a stolen card," the woman—Janice—said, indicating Taylor.

"The card's legitimate," Taylor said firmly. "She's just made a very bad assumption."

"Where's this card now?" asked the guard on the left.

"Do you have proof that it's stolen?" said his colleague, at the same time.

"She's holding it in her hand," Janice said triumphantly.

"She's got no proof," Taylor said tiredly, rolling her eyes. "Because it's a legitimate card." She displayed it for the guards, careful not to let them get close enough to snatch it. "It's mine. I know the PIN. I paid for a very expensive pocket watch with it, and this woman is refusing to hand over my legitimate purchase."

"There's no name on it," the guard on the right. "Why is that?"

 _Finally, someone's paying attention._ "It's a temporary card. The account only got opened today, and they haven't gotten the permanent card to me yet." Taylor raised her eyebrows. "And yet, I know the PIN, and—hey!" Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the woman's hand attempting to grab the card. She kept hold of it, then grabbed the woman's wrist with her other hand. "That's _mine_!" With the extra leverage, she plucked the card free of the woman's grip.

"Ow!" shouted the woman. "Let me go! You're hurting me!"

"Let her go!" commanded the guard on the left. He took a step forward.

Taylor twisted the woman's wrist and forced her to her knees, driving a strangled squeak of pain from her lungs. With the strength afforded her by Janesha's celestial upgrade, it was almost too easy. "Sure. Just as soon as this one here hands over my Dad's birthday present."

The guard on the left took a device from his belt; it had two metal prongs sticking out from it. "I _said_ , let her go." Taylor half-expected to see an electrical arc crackling between the contacts, but it seemed that was a Hollywood thing.

"Fine." Taylor let Janice's wrist go. "Now make her give me my watch. The one that I paid for."

"Not so fast." Taylor turned, as did the security guards. Two uniformed police officers had just entered the store. Neither one had their gun out, though hands were on weapons. "Taylor Hebert?"

Taylor blinked. "Uh, yes. That's me. What the hell have I done now?"

"Come with us and we'll clear this whole thing up." One of the cops waved dismissively to the security guards. "Stand down, guys. We got this."

"I'm not leaving till I get my Dad's birthday present!" shouted Taylor. "I paid for it, and it's mine! Why won't anyone _listen_ to me?"

The other cop read the scene in a glance, then turned a stern glare on Janice. "Has the watch been paid for?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Then she's right. You have no legal standing for keeping the goods from her once the transaction was processed. The watch no longer belongs to your store. Hand it over. Now."

"But—but … it's a stolen card. It has to be!" blustered Janice.

"Do you mind if I take a look at your card, Miss Hebert?" the second cop asked, politely.

Since he hadn't assumed anything, Taylor passed him the card without incident, to which he stepped away and pulled out his own phone. Looking at the card (which had nothing but the bank logo in the corner for identifying markers), he dialled a number and asked to speak to the manager. Seconds later, he spoke quietly, constantly looking at Taylor as if to confirm her appearance, and when he was done, he turned back to Janice and scowled, shaking his head. "The card's hers, woman. You screwed up big-time. Hand over the damn watch before we arrest you for grand larceny and spitting on the sidewalk."

Shocked, staring from Taylor to the cops and back again, Janice turned to the cabinet and unlocked it. As she did so, Taylor reached out and tore off the receipt that had long since printed out. She held it up as Janice turned around with the watch. "When I come back here, you are gonna be out of a fucking job. And sign the receipt."

Chastened, Janice did as she was told. She bundled the (now signed) receipt with the watch in a small bag, and shoved it all into Taylor's hands. "Now get out," she spat.

"Gladly," Taylor retorted. "I was gonna buy something twice as expensive for me, but you just shat all over that idea." She turned to the cops. "Thanks, guys. Do we still need to go somewhere, or has that been dealt with?"

"Still gotta go to the station." The cop on the left tilted his head toward Janice. "While we're sorting out the other stuff, maybe you might want to swear out a criminal complaint against her."

"I just might." Taylor tucked her card away in her purse. With the bag containing her watch firmly in her hand, she followed the police officers from the mall and climbed into the large van with police markings that was waiting at the curb.

"I gotta say," she began, then realised that the vehicle was already full of police officers. "Uh … what's going on here?"

Too late, the sliding door behind her slammed shut, then she became aware that several pistols were pointing at her.

"What's going on," the cop who'd just been so nice to her sneered as he climbed into the driver's seat, "is that you're coming with us. To be honest, we expected to have to go grab you, but I've never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth."

Taylor had to take a few seconds to process this new information. "Wait … you're not cops?"

That got her a round of harsh laughter as the van engine started. "What makes you say that?" asked the guy sitting next to her.

"Well, because you're kidnapping me?" It seemed obvious to her.

"What, just because we're cops, we can't pursue alternate revenue streams?" The guy pointed at the empty seat. "Sit down. Shut up. We were told to bring you in. The state you're in depends entirely on you."

 _Okay, so I am being kidnapped. By cops, no less. This is different._

Taylor obediently sat down. She could, of course, rip the entire side door off and escape, but this intrigued her. Someone wanted her kidnapped; someone who could either pay off a lot of cops or outfit an entire bunch of guys with really authentic-looking cop gear.

In short, someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to get their hands on her. Someone who, if she wasn't careful, might hurt innocent bystanders if they had to try again. She reminded herself of the modifications Janesha had made on her. _I'm bulletproof and I can juggle this vehicle like a cardboard box. I also don't have to breathe._ There wasn't a huge amount they could do to her, and a lot she could do to them, but as far as they were concerned, the opposite was true.

"Um … so what's going on here?" she asked. "Why me?"

"You don't ask questions," growled the man sitting next to her. He took hold of her wrist and handcuffed it to the frame of the seat. Another man pulled a bag over her head. It was stuffy and smelled faintly of cologne, and cut out all light.

"Okay," she said, her voice muffled from inside the bag. They weren't going to give her answers anyway; that much was clear. She settled back to try to enjoy the ride in relative comfort, keeping a tight grip on her possessions.

While the bag cut out all sight and did a fair amount toward muffling her hearing, it did nothing to attenuate her control of her bugs. She had a clear picture of her surroundings, extending a couple of blocks in all directions, so no matter how the van changed direction—which it did far more often than it normally should have, given the route it was travelling—she knew where she was. The cop beside her had warned her to stay quiet, so she didn't ask stupid questions like 'where are we going' or 'what do you want with me'. She'd find out the answers to those questions, she figured, when she got where she was going.

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

Normally, in a situation like this, Thomas Calvert would have kept one timeline as a 'safe' line, where he did nothing. In the other, he would set up a risky situation, then drop whichever one came out with the least acceptable outcome. This was anything but a normal situation.

Cauldron, via the person of Contessa, had specified that they wanted Taylor Hebert to be permanently separated from Janesha of Mystal. This, to Calvert, said they wanted her dead. Why they weren't just doing the job themselves wasn't obvious to him, but he had no particular squeamishness when it came to dead teenage girls.

Calvert was no common assassin, of course. People usually didn't call him in on contracts to make people dead. When they did hire his services, it was usually for something more elaborate. So Cauldron's requirement puzzled him more than a little. Also, he definitely wanted to know more about Janesha Nascerdios of Mystal, who had been making serious waves around Brockton Bay _and_ who had been seen in Taylor's company more than once. Scuttlebutt in the PRT building, whispered around the water cooler but not even making it on to the PHO boards, was that Janesha could _remove powers_ , something that had very definitely made Calvert's radar. Setting up a multimillion-dollar bank account using a duffel full of gold bars was par for the course when it came to Nascerdios; the ability to casually remove superpowers was not.

Taylor Hebert would die. His tame cops would work out a sequence of events between them that left them all in the clear, all the while delivering her to a location of Calvert's choosing. Calvert would then wring every single secret out of her, using all the tricks and techniques he'd acquired over his PRT career, before disposing of her body in a location where it would be discovered, having suffered a 'mugging gone wrong'. This sort of thing happened to teenage girls all the time, after all.

Still, there was always room for caution. In the first timeline, she was being delivered to his main base of operations. The second had her being brought to an offsite backup base, where she would be interrogated over a closed-circuit TV channel, with men on site to provide the appropriate brutality.

This wasn't his first rodeo, after all.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

The bag was taken off Taylor's head as heavy leather straps were fastened over her arms, securing her to the wooden chair she'd been shoved into. She knew where she was; an underground complex somewhere to the west and south of the Trainyards, one she hadn't even known was there. It was composed of half a dozen rooms and housed twenty men, though it had room for maybe three times that number.

Blinking, she pretended confusion as she looked around. "Okay," she said. "What now? And careful with that package. I just paid good money for that."

The armoured mercenary holding her purse and the package containing the pocket watch shrugged and shoved them into pouches at his belt. Taylor marked him with a bug, then did the same to his compatriots. They might think she wasn't going to live to reclaim her property; she had different ideas.

Another mercenary answered her question. "What happens now is that the boss asks questions. You answer the questions. If he doesn't like the answers, we hurt you till you give him answers he likes."

Taylor thought that over. "What if the only answer I've got is one he doesn't like?"

The armoured man snorted. "Then you're shit out of luck, kid."

"Can I know who it is who's going to be asking me questions?"

"Sure. His name's Coil." He gestured at the large screen in front of them both, currently dark and silent. "No big secret. He'll be talking to us through that."

"And afterward I get to go home?"

"Yeah, kid. If you're good, you get to go home."

That was the first lie he'd told. Everything else he'd said, he'd been a little tense, thinking over what he was saying. Saying she would be free to go home, he'd just flung the statement out there. He didn't mean it, and he didn't believe it. It was just something he was saying to keep her on side.

She didn't contradict him. Getting answers out of him would be easier if she didn't call him on his lies.

The screen flared to life. Imaged on it was an almost skeletally thin man, clad in a skintight costume that covered every inch of his visible form, which was from the mid-torso upward. It was a charcoal-black with a white stripe winding around it, culminating with what might have been a snake's head overlaying the top of his own head. She could see why he called himself Coil.

 _"Good afternoon, Miss Hebert,"_ purred the gaunt man. _"My name is Coil, and I have some questions for you today. How well you answer them will determine how well my men treat you."_

 _And how soon I bust out of this chair and come looking for you,_ Taylor decided. "Wh-what do you want from me?" she asked, pretending fear.

That was the cue for him to steeple his fingers together and look at her over them. _"I want to know everything there is about Janesha Nascerdios of Mystal,"_ he intoned. _"What you know, what you think you know, what she likes and dislikes. What her motivations are. In other words, I want to know what it is that makes her tick. Can you oblige?"_

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

In the timeline where the Hebert girl was being held in his base, he had the men asking her about herself, to provide a baseline for the questioning. Where she was being held off-site, on the other hand, he began asking her about Janesha of Mystal.

She answered questions about herself reasonably promptly. This was a tried and true interrogation technique; if the subject can be induced to begin answering questions, it is easier to keep them answering questions, even when said questions start getting more sensitive. Her middle name was Anne; her mother had died in a car accident when she was thirteen; her best friend was the aforementioned Janesha of Mystal; her favourite school subject was Computer Studies. All extremely innocuous.

About Janesha, she was somewhat more guarded. The first subject they queried was the origin of the term 'Mystal'. From the title she'd given herself, it seemed to be her place of origin, but no amount of research had turned up any evidence of a nation or even a wealthy family of that name. Taylor claimed adamantly that she didn't know where it was, leading Calvert to surmise that the name was actually the title of an obscure superhero team. Presenting the Hebert girl with that supposition elicited a certain amount of amusement and agreement.

From there, he moved on to Janesha's powers; specifically, her limits and possible weaknesses. Taylor waxed lyrical over Janesha's matter-shaping powers, going into some detail over what the strange cape had achieved with them. Calvert would have liked to poke holes in her story, but he actually had footage of what had happened at the Boat Graveyard that afternoon. Watching the girl juggle seventy-thousand-ton ships while standing on water made his stomach cramp, especially when the ships obligingly folded themselves into cubes for easier storage.

 _Someone of that power level has no good reason for being in Brockton Bay. What is she doing here, and how soon is she leaving?_

When he posed that very question to Taylor, she shrugged as best she could. "She's doing what she wants, and she'll be leaving when she feels like it," was her answer.

He preferred not to think too hard about the line of questioning regarding the winged horse, or 'mystallion' as Taylor was quick to describe it. According to her, it was a member of a distinct species rather than a unique creature. He flat-out refused to believe her fanciful description of how fast it travelled, or even that it was able to leave atmosphere. That it had travelled to Rio in a matter of seconds, he could grasp; Mover abilities, after all, were a known concept. But to take a jaunt out among the stars, watching the very heavenly bodies jump aside to allow them passage … that was where he drew the line. Perhaps it was travelling so fast that she couldn't breathe properly, and oxygen starvation caused hallucinations? It was the only real explanation.

Where he hit a brick wall, however, was when he had his men press her on Janesha's weak points. Some instinct had him ask the gentle questions of the version of Taylor in his home base, while his men became much more stringent with the other Taylor. There was no specific reason for him to do so, but he did it that way anyway.

It didn't take very long before he was very happy for that decision.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

She stared defiantly back at the mercenary. So far, it had been more or less like a game. Janesha would figure out where she was sooner or later, and she wanted to string these morons out long enough that they were horrifically surprised when the celestial girl busted in on them.

The trouble was, she'd been in their hands for more than an hour by now, and Janesha still hadn't shown up. It was getting boring. Also, they were starting to ask questions she didn't want to answer. Lying was definitely an option, but each time she tried it, she was caught out immediately.

 _"Incorrect, Miss Hebert."_ She couldn't see Coil's face, but she was sure his smug expression matched Emma at her worst. _"Janesha's weakness is not cold iron. Nor is it custard pudding. I see we're going to have to work on our trust issues."_

Pithily, she told him exactly what he could do with his trust issues, and where he could insert them. She couldn't see his face, but she hoped he was annoyed with her. It was actually a pretty good insult for one made up on the fly.

 _"I see. Mr Brooks. Kindly break Miss Hebert's little finger. Left hand, if you will."_

Taylor raised her eyebrows as Brooks approached her. "This is a really bad idea. Janesha is a Nascerdios, she's really rich, and she'll be seriously pissed that you tried to hurt me."

Just for a moment, it seemed that Brooks hesitated, then he reached out for her left hand. She responded by curling her hand into a fist. With the power to crush diamonds in that fist, there was no way he was going to open her hand. He tried anyway, for at least a minute.

 _"Well, get on with it."_ Coil was not the most patient.

"Sorry, sir. I can't get her hand open."

 _"Hit her, you idiot. Just don't knock her out. Rattle her head a little."_

Obediently, Brooks backhanded Taylor across the face. Taylor let her head rock back under the impact, but showed no other reaction. Brooks tried again, harder. Again, Taylor went with it. On the third time, Brooks threw a full-blooded punch at Taylor's jaw. In response, Taylor tensed every muscle in her chest and neck, and held her head absolutely still. When the blow hit, she didn't move even a fraction of an inch. The crackle of breaking bones was clearly audible, along with Brooks's muffled scream as he cradled his hand.

 _"Report! Mr Brooks! What happened?"_

"I think I broke my hand … sir," gritted Brooks. "Her jaw's like rock."

 _Rock, hah. My jaw's considerably harder than that._

The screen went off at this time, and Brooks staggered from the room. Taylor heard the door click behind him. A few moments later, a yellowish gas began to curl in through wall vents. Taylor felt her vacuum adaptations kick in automatically. Her eyes stung, until the nictitating membranes Janesha had installed swept across them to protect the delicate surfaces. Her clothing started looking older and more tattered, so she guessed the gas had an acidic factor as well as being poisonous in nature. Fortunately, it didn't fall apart altogether, for which she was grateful.

After a few minutes, she got bored with sitting in a yellow fog, so she snapped the restraints and stood up. Heading over to the door, she pushed it open; metal screeched and rivets ricocheted from the wall. The yellow gas curled out with her, forcing the mercenaries back from the doorway. They held rifles, which they raised in a menacing fashion.

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

Calvert watched through the CCTV cameras as they opened fire. The bullets damaged her clothing slightly, but did no damage at all to her. Even the vaunted undermount lasers—for which he had paid a _fortune_ —did nothing but scorch holes in her clothing, which irritated her but did nothing more.

She stalked through the base on what seemed to be a random path, until he finally realised that she was following one specific mercenary, by the name of Travis. Literally ignoring what the others were doing, even when they threw tear-gas grenades—not to mention actual grenades—she followed the man implacably, unstoppably. Locked and sealed blast doors slowed her down right up until she forced a gap between door and frame, then with strength he'd only ever seen in footage of Alexandria, she wrenched the obstacle aside and continued her hunt.

Finally, she cornered the man. Out of ammunition, terrified out of his mind, he launched an attack on her with a combat knife. Some Brutes (because surely that was what she was) were vulnerable on the inside, so Calvert was cheered when he managed to lodge the blade inside her mouth.

She bit it off, and spat the piece to one side. When he attacked her, she'd gotten a grip on his equipment belt; now, she hit him with an untrained palm strike that nonetheless snapped the belt and sent him flying across the room into the wall. He lay there, disarmed and unable to get up, staring at her. She ignored him and rifled through his belt, retrieving her purse and the package from the jewellery store.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

"Thanks for looking after this," she told the idiot who'd attacked her, shoving her purse in her pocket and opening the package to make sure the watch was still okay. "That acid fog shit might've damaged it, and then I really would've been pissed."

When she turned around, the mercenaries in the doorway shrank back under her gaze. Rifles were pointed, but nobody was stupid enough to open fire. Nothing they'd used on her had worked, anyway. _Janesha, you're amazing._

"Okay," she said. "This has been fun, but I've still got to get my dad's watch engraved. Which way's the exit, or do I have to make my own?"

One of the mercenaries pointed wordlessly, and she started in that direction. As she headed up the stairs, two more armoured men appeared at the top of the steps. She shook her head. "Seriously? Come on, guys. This public display stuff's not usually my thing, but do you really think Janesha is the only cape in our friendship?" There was a long pause. They looked at each other, then stood aside. She rolled her eyes. " _Thank_ you."

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

Calvert watched impotently as she reached the outer door to the base and kicked it off its frame. Then she stepped through the now-open portal and left his line of sight.

The base was a _wreck_. The mercenaries had burned through most of their ammunition just trying to slow down Taylor Hebert, and in turn she'd done tens of thousands of dollars worth of damage to the base. It was just a good thing that all this had happened in the offsite facility rather than his main base. With a shudder, he dropped the timeline where the version of her in _this_ base had just casually torn through the restraints and was pushing the door open. He didn't need that sort of damage in his main facility.

Dropping his elbows to the desk, he put his face in his hands. Cauldron had given him one job, and he'd utterly failed to do it.

Worse, he'd pissed off Taylor Hebert (who was apparently an Alexandria-class cape, and he had no idea where _that_ had come from) and by proxy Janesha Nascerdios, a girl who was richer than God _and_ who could demonstrably walk on water and reshape matter to her heart's content. And the Hebert girl knew who'd had her kidnapped. If either one of them had a vindictive bone in her body, he was screwed beyond belief.

 _What the_ ** _fuck_** _do I do now?_

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

The mall was closed by now, but she figured maybe she could go and 'ask' to see the security footage, and see what had happened to Taylor. Then she had a better idea. Having Cloudstrike fly straight up, she reached an altitude of around fifty thousand feet, and looked down at Brockton Bay. Her enhanced sight picked out every single person in the open … including a lone figure, walking eastward through a semi-abandoned section of town.

"Down, Cloudstrike," she directed her mount. The mystallion obeyed, dropping like a stone. Ten miles went by in an instant, then Cloudstrike flared her wings, landing with the lightness of a feather.

Taylor looked up. "Oh, hey," she said. "What kept you?"

"Oh, this and that. Mainly, the fact that Scion's a cowardly chickenshit who doesn't want to talk to me. But what happened to _you_?"

Taylor trudged over to Cloudstrike and patted her muzzle. "Hey, girl," she said. Cloudstrike nickered and rubbed the side of her face against Taylor's chest. Taylor raised her tired gaze to Janesha's. "I've been finding out how much easier you make life for me. And how many idiots there are in this city who think a teenage girl is just a teenage girl."

Janesha raised her eyebrows. This sounded like _some_ story.

* * *

End of Part Thirteen


	15. Chapter 14

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Fourteen: Eclectic Boogaloo

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read co-written by the author of_ _ **Ties That Bind**_ _(and the upcoming sequel,_ _ **The Long Way Home**_ _), Karen Buckeridge.]_

* * *

 **Hebert Household  
Taylor**

* * *

" … so once I got out of there, I started walking west," Taylor concluded. "Janesha dropped in about ten minutes later and we came home."

Danny shook his head wonderingly. "Did they try to follow you?"

Taylor snorted. "They'd already learned that was a bad idea in the base. When I throw things, it seems I throw them _really hard._ "

Janesha cracked her knuckles. "So where is this place? We need to go back and explain to them exactly why they don't kidnap my besties. Like, ever. And by 'explain', I mean 'pull down their stupid base around their ears and mindscrape the survivors into a drooling puddle'."

Mindscraping didn't sound like fun to Taylor. She suspected it was even worse than it sounded. "I know where it is, but Coil wasn't actually on site at the time. I'm pretty sure he's got another base. This was just a secondary." She shook her head. "Supervillains. How does someone get to build even one secret base under Brockton Bay, anyway, much less two?"

"What part of mindscraping did you not get?" Janesha smirked. "If even one of those guys has ever been to the other base, or even better, has seen his boss with his stupid mask off, I'll see what they've seen. Then we go say hi to Coil and deliver him to the PRT. In a flat-pack envelope, for preference."

"I would much prefer that we keep the mindscraping to a minimum," Taylor's father said firmly. "Not that I don't want to exact bloody vengeance against the people who kidnapped Taylor and tried to kill her, but messing with peoples' minds will still draw a lot of attention."

Janesha wrinkled her nose. "Stupid pretend-Simurgh. I should totally go up there and smack the shit out of her until she stops fucking around with you mortals. Then go and do the same to Leviathan and Behemoth."

Danny raised his eyebrows. "Okay, not to doubt you in any way … I mean, you've done some pretty amazing stuff since you got here. Shit, I saw you walk on water and juggle container ships. The entire hero population of Brockton Bay saw you do that."

"And every single one called bullshit," added Taylor with a smirk.

"Trust me, they've got no idea how far celestial bullshit can go," Janesha assured them, then looked at Danny narrowly. "You were saying something about not doubting me, but I heard a 'but' in there. Mind finishing that sentence?"

Danny nodded. "But … the Endbringers have been terrorising the world since before Taylor was born. Thousands of capes have fought them. Hundreds of capes have _died_ fighting them. Not one Endbringer has been killed. The _most_ that's happened in return is that they've been driven off. And you can't even really call it a victory, in most cases. Cities have been levelled, or they've had to be quarantined. Entire islands have been _sunk_. Are you absolutely _certain_ you're up to dealing with something like that? Sure, you're more powerful than any ten capes I could name, but they've proven they're capable of taking on _hundreds_ of capes at a time." His voice held nothing but honest concern.

"If it was anyone but either of you two asking that question, Danny Hebert, I would consider turning them into a newt." Janesha's tone was deadly serious. "A small, ugly newt with a habit of licking its own butt. _Nobody_ asks a Mystallian if they're sure they're capable of doing something. If we weren't sure, we wouldn't say it. The very last thing we want is some mortal doubting us, or infecting other mortals with that doubt."

"But what if you think you can handle it, but then find out you can't?" Danny asked, not to be cruel, but in genuine curiosity.

"Then you own the mistake," Taylor answered, before Janesha could. "I gotta confess, when you first started trash-talking the Simurgh yesterday, I didn't realise you were serious about it."

Janesha cracked her knuckles again and grinned evilly. "Petal, that pretender out there is one of three things. She's either a cape, a construct or a celest. If it's a cape, she's done. If she's a construct, she's just as done. Constructs are … well … constructs are built by celests, and as such, they don't get our power upgrades with establishment. Even if she's a celest, I'm one of the top tiers when it comes to standard power. In fact, the only thing I have to worry about is whether or not she's an _established_ celest. Everything else, I can pretty much handle."

"What makes you think she's established?"

Janesha curled her lip. "Because, contrary to his wimpy shit personality, it looks like Scion's casting himself in the role of a saviour god, while the Endbringers are presenting themselves as a scourge of humanity. If that's the case, they might very well be the rest of his pantheon, and if they are, my friend is gonna be sooooo pissed."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "So, how do we find out which she is? I mean, what are you going to do if she is … uhh … an established celest? Does that mean you won't be going after her?"

"Oh, I'll be going after her all right," Janesha said firmly. "Even if I have to bring in reinforcements myself. She's impersonating my friend, and that shit don't fly. But it wouldn't hurt to check things out a little more, given what'll happen to me exactly two seconds after she's been dealt with." She paused with a wry grimace, and Taylor realised the reinforcements she'd bring in would be her family, who would then land on her for not going home. But, as if to break that train of thought, Janesha clapped her hands together and brightened, "But either way, that's for another day. We've still got another pest to take care of first. Your friend and mine, Coil."

"Wait a minute," objected Danny, as Janesha went to take Taylor's hand, probably to realm step away. "You're not going after anymore supervillains tonight. House rules."

"What?" Janesha stared at him, along with Taylor. "What house rules are these?"

" _My_ house rules." Danny stared right back. "My new ones. Rule one: One supervillain incident a day, tops, in this house. Taylor's already used up that one by being kidnapped from the mall by Coil, and my heart won't take a second confrontation so soon. The pair of you can leave retaliation plans till tomorrow."

"But what if he leaves town tonight?" objected Janesha. "He might get away."

"Honestly, I don't care. You're more than capable of tracking him down tomorrow, if you need to. Tonight, we're all having dinner and then we're all having a shower and going to bed, like a normal family. The end."

Janesha looked as though she couldn't believe she was being grounded by a mortal. "You're yanking my chain now, right?"

 _Well, well,_ Taylor thought to herself. _Look who was listening to the kids at school today._ She was almost certain that saying didn't originate in Mystal.

Danny didn't back down. "I wish I were. But we've all had enough excitement for one day, and at the very least, we could use a good night's sleep before we make our next move. You two have school tomorrow, for God's sake!"

Janesha growled, and Taylor didn't think it was because of the restriction. "You can always hunt him down tomorrow while _I_ go to school," Taylor suggested, trying to smooth things over between them. "No one says you have to come with me …"

Janesha huffed and looked from one to the other and back again. "Fine," she huffed. "I'll go after him in the morning then. He messed with me and my friends twice, and he's not getting a third swipe at you."

"I'd really rather you went to school …" Danny's interjection died off and turned into a drawn-out sigh as Taylor shook her head behind Janesha's back. "But technically I suppose you don't have to if you don't want to. It's not as if you're going to graduate and get a job here."

Janesha huffed again, this time in derision.

"So, we're all going to eat, have a shower and go to bed, right?" The question was aimed more at Janesha than Taylor, who everyone knew would do as she was told.

Janesha lifted her chin to scratch her throat and rolled her eyes to the side to stare at him. "I already said I would, Danny, and I'm not in the habit of repeating myself."

"I'm pleased to hear that." Taylor had never known her father could pull off snark like this before, especially in such a bland tone of voice. "So, would you like a slice of _cold_ lasagne for dinner, or something more fancy?"

Yet another dig - this time at their tardiness. Taylor didn't think either of them was at fault for that.

"You just have to keep pushing, don't you, Danny?" Janesha sneered, which meant she didn't think so either. At his smug eyebrow wiggle, she twisted her lips to avoid smirking and said, "Fine, I'll fix us something better, but only because I want to eat, too." But as she turned and went back into the kitchen, she muttered under her breath, "Not my fault Scion had me running all over the fucking planet …"

Taylor grinned at her father and followed her friend into the kitchen.

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

"Going somewhere?"

Calvert didn't look around as the sardonic voice sounded from the region of his open bedroom door. His suitcase was nearly full, and his bug-out bag lay on the floor next to his bed. Silently, he cursed himself for not simply grabbing the bag and leaving, but he knew quite well that this would have done him no good at all. Contessa would've found him no matter where he ran.

"I've just kidnapped and tried to kill a teenage girl," he stated tiredly. "The friend of arguably the most powerful cape in Brockton Bay. I _failed_ to kill said teenager because she's only one step short of an Alexandria package herself." For the first time, he turned to glare at her. "Which you could have _warned_ me about!"

"Why would I do your job for you?" Contessa asked carelessly. "You should've done your research before you snatched her up." Leaning against the doorframe, she inspected her fingernails. "So how are you going to remedy this blunder?" Implicit in her question was the fact that he didn't have the option of walking away.

"Well, given that nothing I've got will so much as _scratch_ the Hebert girl, I'm not entirely certain," Calvert said, trying not to sound as irritated as he felt. Smart-mouthing a member of Cauldron was never a good career move. "Do you have any suggestions on where I could start?"

Contessa rested her elbow on her arm, and rubbed her lips with her thumb. "I wasn't made aware of the fact that the Hebert girl had been given an upgrade." She tilted her head forward and to the side as if to give something over her shoulder a dirty look. Whoever it was meant for, Coil was glad it was in the opposite direction of him.

WHen Contessa turned back to him, her expression was as neutral as ever. "Fortunately, it's a problem I can easily deal with. By the time you get back to her, she won't be so … durable."

Calvert felt his brows raising. When he'd purchased his powers from Cauldron, he hadn't been able to meet the full price up front, so they'd required him to pay it off over several years. To forestall any inclination to use his powers to skip out on the debt, he'd been warned that failure to keep up with payments could result in the revocation of his powers, and he'd _still_ owe for the balance.

Which meant that the concept of Cauldron being able to remove powers wasn't totally foreign to him, but the next question was something he had never really considered. _Can they just take_ ** _anyone's_** _powers away?_ He wasn't sure what it meant that Contessa was revealing this specific aspect to him now.

However, he was still himself, and he was fully aware that he _had_ managed to piss off a very powerful cape. "And Janesha?" he asked. "Do you have any tips on how to deal with her and live after the fact?"

"Just one," she said, and looked him in the eyes. He recoiled from the sheer _power_ radiating from her gaze. "If she can see you, she can read every thought you have. Every memory you've ever had. She can strip you to the bone, mentally speaking, and you'd never know it." She paused, meaningfully. "And that goes for your men. Anyone who's ever seen your face, no matter how loyal they are, she'd know what you look like. And any of your men at that secondary base who know where your primary one is, she can find out from them. Just so you know."

Turning, she left the room. Her shoes clacked on the floor once, twice, three times, then fell silent. He knew she was gone, back to wherever Cauldron held sway. That she would carry out her promise, he had no doubt. Of course, that didn't do anything to deal with Janesha, and her warning about the girl's powers hadn't helped to allay his nerves in the slightest.

 _Mind reader? What_ ** _is_** _she, the Simurgh's little sister?_

To be honest, given her stupidly ridiculous range of powers, he wouldn't have been at all surprised if Contessa had told him that Janesha Nascerdios was indeed linked somehow to the Endbringers. With that in mind, he split the world into two timelines. In one line, he continued to pack the suitcase; in the other, he left the house again. Getting back into his base would be a long and intricate process, but maintaining absolute security regarding his secret identity suddenly seemed a lot more important than it had been up till now.

Once there, he would revisit his plans to separate Taylor Hebert from Lady Janesha Nascerdios of Mystal. At the same time, he had some loose ends to deal with.

* * *

 **Cauldron Base  
Fortuna**

* * *

"Well, that should deal with _that._ " Contessa quickly slid her seclusion ring back on, and sighed at the loss of her power. It had taken only the slightest effort of leaning into her attunement to remove the celestial improvement from Taylor Hebert. She had made it an ongoing effect, so no matter how many times Janesha _bitchface_ Nascerdios of _cocksucking_ Mystal upgraded her mortal toy, it would always revert. "Let's see her protect the little bug now."

"I still can't believe she actually fucking upgraded a mortal like that." Dorian leaned on the doorframe with his arms crossed, shaking his head. "I mean, who even fucking cares about one mortal? Other _mortals_ don't care about other mortals."

"Who can understand anything a fucking Mystallian does?" Clare wandered into the room. "Not me, that's for fuckin' sure. At least the mortals are fairly set in their ways. All they think about for the most part is food and fucking, and sometimes not even food."

Contessa crossed the room before the other two members of Abbadon could react. Her hand closed around Clare's throat, and she slammed him against the wall. "If you'd been paying less attention to the 'food and fucking' side of things and more attention to _Taylor fucking Hebert,_ maybe I wouldn't have been left swinging dickless in front of the Calvert mortal. I need to be on top of shit like that. I want to know _before_ the mortals know! Not! _After_!" As she ranted, she pulled his throat forward to knock him off-balance, then rammed her knee into his ribs with enough force to lift him completely off the ground, then punched him into the floor while he was still airborne. She'd have done a lot more if neither of them had been wearing their seclusion rings. Frustrated by his continual failure, she ignored the way he tried to stand again and kicked him in the ribs, this time hard enough to send him sailing into the far wall under her wide screen monitor. He didn't hit her monitor, because it was hers and she was innately lucky like that. _"Am I fucking making myself totally fucking clear to you?"_ As she screamed out the last sentence, Clare bounced off the wall and fell in a heap on the floor. If he didn't understand now how serious she was, her next trick would involve his arm and an industrial meat grinder. Dorian was acting as his keeper, so her psychic didn't need either one to do his job, and retards were always having accidents. Besides, he'd grow them back … eventually.

"Y-yes, sister," Clare managed to spit out, along with a mouthful of blood.

All at once, the hairs on the back of Contessa's neck rose, just as Clare's flame filled gaze jerked towards the closed door. Both knew what their innate abilities were trying to tell them, and while Clare dampened down his fire and rolled his shoulders into a meek pose, Contessa jerked her head at Dorian, who was already moving towards their prone brother.

"You really have to be more careful," Dorian began as he slid one hand under Clare's arm, just as the door slid open and Doctor Mother's head popped in.

Wearing gloves as she did, any damage Contessa took as a result of punching her brother was already well on its way to being healed and Doctor Mother would never know about it. She released a breath that put her back into her icy persona.

"Is everything alright?" the mortal woman asked, her face alight with concern for the fallen man.

"Clare just tripped over his own feet," Dorian answered, as Clare giggled stupidly at their visitor through a mixture of blood and drool.

Doctor Mother's gaze narrowed. "You don't take that much damage to a face from just falling ov…" her sentence was cut off mid-word, and knowing she hadn't done anything to intercede, Contessa swung her eyes to her brothers ...

… and found Clare's right hand free of his ring. By the time he'd pushed it back onto his finger, his head was tilted to the side and he'd started giggling again. Doctor Mother's apparent concern for him evaporated and she shook her head at his foolishness. "Your brother's right, Clare. You really should be more careful," she said, dismissing the worry that had previously been all-consuming.

"Did you want something?' Contessa asked, pleased that her brother had been at least that much on the ball.

The dark skinned woman blinked, as if to collect her thoughts. "Oh, right. Yes. Alexandria wants a meeting. Legend and Eidolon are showing up as well. It's about this new cape in Brockton Bay."

Fortuna pretended to think. "Oh. Yes, I think I've heard something about her. Janowitz or Jashena or something, wasn't it?" She saw out of the corner of her eye the way Clare's lips twitched in amusement, but as it blended in with his cover, Contessa knew no one would notice the slip.

"Janesha. Janesha of Mystal." Doctor Mother shook her head wonderingly. "Not only is she a Nascerdios, but from the power level she's showing, she may well rival any member of the Triumvirate. Alexandria wants to work on strategies for if she turns out to be a villain."

It sounded like a good idea; or rather, any kind of planning which treated Janesha like a potential enemy sounded like a good idea. Of course, Legend would counsel on the side of a softy-softly approach, while Eidolon would probably feel threatened due to the sheer range of abilities exhibited by the Mystallian. None of the fools had any idea what they were truly dealing with.

But all in all, it sounded like a good opportunity to spread disinformation and shape the perception of the Triumvirate the way she wanted. The only trouble was, she didn't dare take off her seclusion ring and simply implant the knowledge straight into their heads. Every instance of doing that risked being contacted from home, which meant she'd have to talk them around to her way of thinking. That, unfortunately, could take half the night.

Fortuna was nothing if not patient. She had trained her whole life to fixate on objectives and no amount of time was a problem for her when it came to getting everything just right for a devastating strike. Especially not half a night. "I'll be there," she said.

* * *

 **Taylor  
The Next Morning**

* * *

"Ow, what the hell?"

Taylor stood on one foot and rubbed her shin, staring at the chair she'd bumped into on the way past. The sudden pain, as negligible as it was, had caught her by surprise.

Since meeting Janesha, the worst sensation she'd undergone had amounted to solid taps from the guns belonging to Coil's mercenaries. Even the purple lasers they'd shot her with hadn't so much as blistered her skin. Not even interstellar space had bothered her. And now, she was pretty sure a bruise was coming up.

"What is it, petal?" Janesha swung around the doorframe from the basement, entering the living room with a flourish. On her hands, Taylor smelled the aromatic fragrance of the hay that Cloudstrike enjoyed so much.

Taylor pointed at her shin accusingly. "You never said the powers you gave me came with a use-by date. I hit my leg on the chair just now and it hurt like hell."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Janesha shook her head. "Celestial alterations don't come with a use-by date. They're good until I say they're not good. Are you sure they're gone?"

"My shin is gonna be bruised." Taylor pulled up her jeans leg to show the red mark. "If I was as tough as I was last night, that chair shouldn't have been able to do that."

"Huh. Okay. What about your other powers? The bug thing?"

Taylor blinked. "Oh, uh, they're still there. Same as normal." To illustrate the point, she had three flies orbit Janesha then buzz away.

"Okay, that narrows things down a lot." Janesha held out her hand. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Sure, go right ahead." Taylor sat down in the chair and stuck her leg out. Most of the pain had subsided, but a dull ache remained.

Leaning down, Janesha put her hand on Taylor's kneecap, and frowned. "What the fuck? You're normal again. How in the name of the Twin Notes did that oooooooooohhhh-hohh-hohh -oooohh…" Janesha made the noise and straightened a little as if the possibility had only just occurred to her and she didn't like it _at all_. "Why, that mother-fucking golden skinned, chicken-shit scumbag," she swore, even as Taylor felt the rest of the ache vanish. Janesha's nostrils flared and the blood drained from around her lips, making her more than a little terrifying. "Oh, now it's fucking personal! And if he's taking swipes at you like this from the shadows, I'm gonna need to check on Danny too."

"Who?" Taylor asked, trying desperately to keep up. "Who's come after me?"

Janesha refocused on her friend. "Who _else_? I go after that golden skinned bastard last night, and this morning you wake up without powers. My people don't believe in coincidences unless my Uncle Chance is behind them."

Taylor blinked. "Wait … Scion? Are you talking about Scion?" Taylor felt herself begin to panic. " _Scion_ is taking a personal interest in hurting me?" That last sentence came out as a squeak.

Janesha's gaze slitted dangerously, even as she squeezed Taylor's forearm. The motion gave Taylor a deep sense of security and she immediately felt better. "He only outdoes me when you're outside my range, petal, and that's only if he wants to. Trust me, when you're with me, that yellow shithead isn't going to do crap to you."

"Don't you mean gold?"

"Yellow," Janesha emphasised, stabbing the chair arm that Taylor sat on with one finger. "That gutless wonder who hides wherever and takes potshots from the shadows doesn't deserve to be gold."

"B-But if you need to keep me in your line of sight to counter him, how will that work?"

"Ever gone fishing, petal?"

Taylor was confused; Janesha changed subjects faster than a thesaurus index. "W-What?"

The Mystallian was already hauling her into the kitchen, clearly looking for something. In exasperation, she turned to Taylor and said, "I need mass. About a kilo or two's worth."

"Kilo?" Taylor asked.

Janesha groaned, and rubbed her hand against her forehead. "Two to four pounds," she snapped irritably. "I swear to the realms, it would be so much easier if cousin Columbine just took control of her mortals and smacked them into a uniform system of measurement that matched ours." She shook her head, her eyes darting around the room. "Fuck it. I'll just take it out of the freakin' table…"

"The trash!" Taylor immediately suggested, not certain if Janesha was joking or not about the table. It wasn't something she could risk, given the mood her friend was in. Thankfully, with everything that had happened last night, she'd forgotten to take the trash out and it was still sitting in the bin beside the back door. Mass for the taking. She ran forward and removed the lid from the bin, then took the handles of the nearly filled bag liner and lifted it out for Janesha to see. "Will this work?"

Janesha nodded and waved her back. Taking the handles from Taylor, she shifted the mass into a crude looking spool of black, woolen thread about half the thickness of her little finger. "Here," she said, handing Taylor one end of the thread.

The moment Taylor took it, the thread slipped through her fingers and travelled along her arm and down her body to her left foot. Somehow, the clothing opened and closed around the thread's motion. Taylor went and sat down on a kitchen chair, then kicked her left leg up on to her knee. The thread was nowhere to be seen, but then she noticed it lay across the floor to her other foot. Lifting it an inch or two off the ground, she saw the thread and followed it back to the spool still in Janesha's hands. "Seriously?" she asked, as she dropped both feet to the floor in annoyance at her friend's ridiculous plan. "You're _tethering_ me to you?"

"More than that," Janesha admitted with a grin. "The thread will travel almost instantly to whatever the lowest point is within your body and drop straight to the ground. The weight of the thread will keep it grounded under you and stop anyone else from tripping over it."

"They're still going to trip over it," Taylor argued.

"They won't once I give it the thickness of a hair. Starting with a black thread that thick was for your benefit, so you could see what I was doing. Observe."

As Taylor did just that, the thread thinned until it vanished from her sight. "The bastard's not getting you a third time, petal. You're _mine_."

Taylor wasn't sure how she felt about such a possessive statement coming from the junior goddess, but didn't think now was the time to mention it. "And how far away from you can I be before this thing yanks me off my feet?" she asked, focusing hard on the shoe that she knew had the thread, even though she couldn't see it. A light sweep of her fingers couldn't find it either, and then it dawned on her why. Her foot was no longer the closest point to the ground. Her other foot now was. And if she lifted both feet and tried to feel for it, her fingers would then become the lowest points. She would literally never be able to touch the thread, _ever_.

When she looked back at her friend, Janesha's hands were free of the spool. Almost instinctively, Taylor's eyes went to the girl's black boots, to which Janesha nodded without answering. "It's not a secondary thing anymore," she explained. "The thread has been added to my body mass and is now infused with my divinity. It's me, in every sense of the word. And if a certain dip-shitted celestial tries to cut it, believe me, I'm gonna notice."

"Are you going to do it to Dad, too?"

Janesha huffed and looked to the doorway that led into the lounge. "I want to, but he's already at work. Scion's definitely going to notice a celestial thread that long."

Taylor frowned, trying to think of a way around the problem. "Can't you give it the same freaky ability that the power threads in the celestial realm have? They're able to stretch all over the world and then some. Not only that, but it'd be like we're hiding a book in a library."

Janesha's eyes widened and the left side of her mouth curled into an appreciative smile. Then she hooked her arm around Taylor's neck in a stranglehold and gave her a playful noogie. "That's fucking brilliant!" she declared, as Taylor squirmed and fought for her freedom. "I can keep you both tethered to me, and by putting in a fake crystal in the celestial realm, it'll look like all three of us have 'powers'. Why didn't I think of that before?"

"Maybe because hiding in plain sight isn't really your style?" Taylor suggested dryly, after she managed to pull her head free.

Instead of being insulted, Janesha lifted her chin and grinned proudly. "Damn right, and it never will be. But just this once, and to fuck with that chicken-gutted yellow-skinned bastard, I'll do it to keep you safe." She tilted her head to one side and the other, cracking her neck. "Fucking thinks he can use his attunement to negate your powers, does he?"

Enlightenment burst over Taylor. "Oh, so _that's_ what he did." It barely struck her as weird anymore that she knew enough about celestial capabilities to understand what Janesha was talking about. "I thought he used one of his, you know, regular Scion powers to somehow negate my abilities. But it was a celestial thing."

Janesha rolled her eyes. "Pfft, no. Unless the local mortals have taken to believing he can actually remove powers, he has to use his attunement to pull that crap. Basically, by telling reality that it's no longer possible for you to be so tough and shit."

Taylor gestured at her feet. "And you can beat that with a thread?"

"Well, yeah." Janesha prodded Taylor's shoulder with her finger. "I've just changed you back, and his attunement isn't doing jack to it, so I'd say at a rough guess he's not even a touch shifter naturally. So long as my thread's in contact with you, I've got him trumped."

"Oh. Huh." It still messed with Taylor's head that Janesha could make such a massive change to her physiology without her even knowing about it. Then again, she figured she could really do without long drawn-out transformation scenes. Those looked painful.

Then the other implication came to her. "Wait. You're saying that Scion is _weaker_ than you? Like, by a lot?"

Janesha huffed and tilted her hand. "Okay, two things to deal with here. First, there's no difference between 'a little' and 'a lot' when it comes to comparing the power level of two celestials. Either you beat them or they beat you. Second, in terms of raw power, it looks like my shifting shits all over his but he's got attunement and probably even establishment here, so _in this realm_ he can pull any ability out of his ass that the mortals believe he can do. Same goes for bending, otherwise the bastard would've stood still, let me come up to him, then made me forget all about wanting to talk to him. Instead, he ran and hid like a chickenshit."

This was probably the hardest thing for Taylor to fit her head around. Scion had literally been the most powerful being on Earth Bet for as long as she'd been alive. He'd been fighting Endbringers for longer than that. 'Cowardly' was not a word that anyone, anywhere, associated with him. But here was Janesha, who only wanted to talk to him, and he was running away from her? What was _with_ that? "Are you sure he was running away from you, specifically? Maybe he had places to go and cats to save from trees?"

"Once, maybe." Janesha folded her arms. "But he left an apartment building to burn, then went to Paris. Soon as I got there, he stepped away again. This time, I found him in the middle of Antarctica. And after that, fuck knows where he went. Outer space, underground, wherever it is, I can't find him. If someone runs away three times, it's because they don't want to talk to you. Which is what's got me puzzled. I don't even know the guy, I've certainly never met him before and none of my family has ever mentioned having a run-in with him. So why's he so shit-scared of me?"

Taylor smirked. "Don't look at me. I'm a mortal of knowledge, not a god of knowledge."

Janesha started laughing so hard she had to sit down. "Fuck … me," she wheezed. "That's the funniest thing I've heard in years. I am _so_ gonna have to steal that one and tell Uncle Culkin, once I get back home."

Taylor leaned back in the chair and grinned. Sharing a room with a celestial had its odd moments (and its _really_ odd moments) but there were fun bits, too. She didn't even mind when Janesha leaned across and ruffled her hair fondly. "Okay, so I'm just gonna go and check on your dad then set up that fake crystal thing. Shouldn't be more than five minutes. You good here till then?"

Taylor rolled her eyes. "A girl gets kidnapped just once, and even manages to free herself before the cavalry arrives, and suddenly I can't be left alone for more than ten seconds at a time?"

" _Now_ you sound like a Mystallian," Janesha laughed flicking her fingers in congratulation.

"Just go. I'll be fine." Taylor shooed her friend with both hands, smirking at the way the dark-skinned teenager poked her tongue out right as she took a step forward and vanished from her view. Thanks to her association with Janesha, Taylor was no longer surprised or even impressed by the act of realm-stepping. It was just another thing that celestials did.

Standing up from the chair, she yawned and stretched, then decided to make a sandwich.

* * *

 **Fortuna**

* * *

"Hey, guess what."

Fortuna turned, coffee cup in hand. She wasn't a morning person at the best of times and spending half the night talking to fools who were beneath her grated on her last nerve. As such, when Clare and Dorian came in, both were wearing shit-eating grins that were way too intelligent to be part of Clare's cover, she put the coffee mug down to free her hands and backhanded both of them at the same time in a double swing of her arms. Both took the blows without question, though one of Dorian's eyebrows rose in surprise. Contessa addressed him first. "You let him break cover like that again, and you're in as much shit as he is, understood?"

Dorian's eyes swivelled to their brother accusingly, who had his mask of stupidity back in place. They could sort that out later. "What'd you want?"

"To tell you that you did it," Dorian replied, speaking for their brother who wasn't about to let his facade slip again. At Contessa's impatient frown, he quickly went on. "When you took away the mortal's abilities, Janesha blamed Scion. She thinks he's the one trying to attack her through the mortal. She pissed as hell at him, and with the right push we can take it to hating his guts with a passion. You fuckin' _did_ it."

Now it was Contessa's turn to smile, though she raised her hand to hide her whole mouth behind her palm. She should've known her innate ability had something up its sleeve. "Excellent," she said moments later, dropping her hand to her side only once the desire to smile had passed. "Where is Scion? We need to keep this friction going."

"Still hiding in his little pocket dimension," Dorian answered, suddenly all business. "To be honest, I don't get that one. Up until now, he's been the biggest glory hound in existence. Unless … do you think he's already run into Mystallians before coming here and knows to go into hiding?"

Contessa shook her head in denial. "Not a chance. He'd be dead already if he ran into any of them away from Earlafaol."

"Maybe he ran into them before he left Earlafaol?" At Contessa's dark frown, he added with a shrug, "Hey, I'm just spitballing ideas here. He knew to run, but he didn't learn that here. If he didn't run into a Mystallian after he left Earlafaol, logic says he has to have hit them before. And whoever it was has clearly left a lasting impression if he's bolting from a stupid kid."

Contessa couldn't argue with his logic, though this would've been a lot easier if Scion had kept his chest-beating superior attitude going. Mystallians hated that. Not the superiority itself, but the thought that anyone was superior to _them_. Now they were going to have to make shit up and hopefully draw the bastard out.

Annoyed and looking for someone to vent at, Contessa threw another punch at Clare, though this time he maintained his cover and dropped to the ground with a pathetic whimper. His arms encased his head and he curled into a foetal position, looking for all the world like a terrified child instead of the seasoned warrior he was. She leaned in close, so that only the two of them would hear her next words. "Whatever happens to us when we get home, you're going in the sin-bin for an extra six months for your constant run of failures. From this moment on, you will do nothing, but focus on the mission. Nod if you understand."

Only the smallest, smallest thinning of his lips right before he silently jerked his head once gave any hint of his understanding. Right now, he was so entrenched in his cover she doubted if the arrival of the entire Mystallian pantheon could break him of it. Which was good. It was how they operated and they needed to get back to their roots.

Just as she was about to dismiss them, Clare froze, then said in a quiet, deadpan whisper out of the corner of his mouth, "You're not going to like what Janesha's just gone and done, sister."

Contessa and Dorian looked at each other. "Report," her second in command ordered.

"If we thought she was stupid just empowering her favourite mortals, now she's gone and _tethered_ herself to one."

Her eyebrows rose. "Well, _that's_ fucking new."

Dorian frowned. "Wasn't that other mortal supposed to be killing one of them?"

Contessa shrugged. "We can't break the tether without breaking cover. He's on his own."

Which was the simple truth. Mortals were expendable, and there were always more where those came from.

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

In the one timeline, Calvert had finished packing and notified his superiors at the PRT that he was going to be taking a leave of absence. What he _didn't_ tell them was that he intended to leave within twelve hours, rather than giving them the two weeks' notice that regulations required. Easier to beg forgiveness, after all.

The other timeline had him in costume at his base, dealing with matters. Creep was the only one of his men who could possibly identify him, so he'd had the man shot. Likewise, he'd called up the records of each of his men at the secondary base, and each of the ones who'd spent time at the primary base was singled out by the others and executed. The bodies would have to be disposed of, but that was what the Bay was for. He had no idea how many sets of human remains now resided on the sea floor off the Boardwalk, but more than a few of them had been deposited there by him or his men.

Now that that was dealt with, he was listening in as his men closed on the Hebert house. Danny Hebert was already at the Dockworkers' Association and would be until early in the evening, if his previous habits were anything to go by. Infrared imagery—normally this would be useless in the daytime, but tinkertech ignored things like that—showed two people in the house. One of these was Taylor Hebert, while the other was almost certainly Janesha of Mystal. In the basement, and Calvert had _no_ fucking idea how it had gotten there, was that impossible winged horse.

His men were on hold at the moment. There was no way they were going to prevail against a cape who could toss around thousands of tons of steel like papier mache. But then, one of the images vanished.

 _"Sir, this is Red One._ " That was the team leader. _"Joker Mike has left the building. Green light?"_

He tensed, leaning forward to stare more closely at the screen. She was nowhere to be seen. Had she spotted the men? Was he about to undergo yet another fiasco?

"All units, report in," he said into the microphone.

One by one, they sounded off. Nobody was missing.

"Green light," he said clearly. "I say again, green light."

All he had for a visual feed was the tinkertech camera in the car. It was left behind as his men piled out, pulling balaclavas over their heads to conceal their identities. This was going to be a quick in-and-out raid. Smash their way into the house, shoot her until she fell down, then break off and make a bolt for it. A single sniper would be cleaner but those took too much trouble to set up, especially if the target wasn't a public figure with a known itinerary. He also wanted them well away before Janesha returned.

He watched as his men converged on the house, moving with the assured teamwork that had won them so many battles before. With his capabilities, he'd ensured that they never entered a losing fight, so they were confident and eager for action. Some might have been less than enthusiastic about what amounted to murdering a child, but those were the ones he'd tasked with hanging back and guarding the getaway vehicles. Besides, he'd spread enough disinformation about why the other men had died that they were half-convinced she was responsible.

Over their headsets, he heard the harsh breathing as they prepared to assault the building. Doors were kicked in, and his men swarmed inside. The harsh rattle of gunfire filled his ears. She was in a crossfire; there was no way they could miss.

He couldn't see properly once the gunfire started, of course. Too many heat sources. Then someone yelled, _"Cease fire!"_ The shots petered out.

"Red One, Red One." Calvert spoke clearly and concisely. "Verify that target has been eliminated."

 _"Red One, roger. Target is down. Approaching target now. Uh … "_

"Say situation, Red One." Calvert was getting a very bad feeling about this.

 _"Fall back, fall back. Target is unharmed. I say again, target is unharmed. Fall back!"_

Calvert blinked. _Unharmed? But she said …_

"Abort abort abort," he snapped over the radio. "I say again, abort abort abort. Simurgh conditions are now in place. Do you copy, Red One?"

Red One's breathing was once more harsh, but this time Calvert was almost certain this was from fear and not exertion. _"Red One copies Simurgh conditions."_ His voice was as crisp as ever. _"Aborting mission now."_

'Simurgh conditions' meant that nobody was to be left behind alive. Anyone too wounded to keep up would be shot without mercy. The last thing Calvert wanted was for Taylor Hebert to capture one of his men alive for Janesha to casually uncover every last secret he held.

The feed from the tinkertech camera showed the groups of men breaking away from the house and fleeing along their designated exfiltration routes. Behind them, a skinny figure emerged from the house. She shouted something, but the microphones were just too far away.

Calvert flipped up a clear plastic cover on his desk, and poised his thumb over the row of large red buttons underneath. Unbeknownst to his men, each vehicle was loaded with plastic explosive. If Hebert captured even one car, it could be disastrous for him. Fortunately, he was well acquainted with the need for making hard decisions. All it required was one press of his thumb, and the car in question would become a flaming ball of debris. Anyone inside would be pulped, then burned to a crisp.

There was no way _any_ of this shit was getting back to him.

* * *

 **In the Celestial Realm  
Janesha**

* * *

"There, that should do it."

Janesha put the finishing touches on the fake crystal, making sure it would radiate the same odd lighting as all of its neighbours. She'd made it as tall as herself, larger than some but definitely smaller than others. Once it had been constructed, she'd attached the line she'd run from herself to Taylor to it, then she pulled another line from it. Once attached to Danny, the second line would allow Janesha to maintain his relative invulnerability, no matter what attunement bullshit Scion tried to pull.

Taking a step forward, she vanished from the celestial realm and reappeared in the Dock Workers' Association parking lot. Workers performed double-takes as she strode up to the building and pushed the door open, but nobody tried to stop her. Probably because they'd been part of the audience yesterday and seen her little show; also, possibly because they realised she was a friend of Danny Hebert's.

"Uh, hello." The receptionist, clearly a long-time fixture of the place, stared as though she were a star-struck teen. "I, uh, can I help you?"

Janesha guessed that they didn't get many capes through the place. "Sure," she said. "I need to see Danny Hebert. Is he in?" She could've easily have looked into the woman's mind for the information, but Taylor's influence was all too pervasive.

"Uh, yes." The woman pointed down the hallway. "The office on the end. Can I ask … uh …"

Ignoring the rest of what the woman had to say—politeness to mortals was one thing, but there _was_ a limit to her tolerance—Janesha turned and strode down the hallway. As she came up to the office, she noted the title HEAD OF HIRING on it. Favouring it with a single knock, she turned the handle and went in without breaking stride.

"I said I wasn't to be—oh, hello, Janesha." As Danny looked up, his tone went from irritated to receptive in just a few words. "What's up?"

Janesha pushed the door shut with her heel and came over to the desk. "What's up is that your homegrown Superman knockoff has decided to neutralise Taylor's modifications with his attunement to this realm. I came over to see if he's done the same with you, and to give you a fix if he had."

Danny came to his feet, alarm flaring in his eyes. "Taylor? Is she all right?"

Janesha's hand shot out. "She's fine. It's sorted." Her hand fell to her side and she wrinkled her nose. "I swear, I never had one _tenth_ the trouble with mortals back home that I do here. I had to pull some tricky shit to make sure we always stayed connected, which allows me to maintain your upgrades." She reached across the desk and tapped his wrist with her forefinger. "And that lowlife mother-fucker has cancelled yours as well. Oooh, what I'm going to do when I get my hands on that sneaky little shit."

"Huh." Danny looked down at himself. "I hadn't noticed."

"Good thing, too." Janesha strolled around the desk. "Hold still." Gripping the end of the cord between her forefinger and thumb, she touched it to his shoulder. His shirt parted briefly to allow it through, then the connection was made. Through her own cord, she re-established the upgrades. As a mortal, Danny may have been irritating from time to time, but her respect and liking for him had only grown in the last few days. There might have been a teensy hint of possessiveness in play too, but hey, that was to be expected around her kind.

"What did you just do?" asked Danny curiously, as his shirt repaired itself. He couldn't see the cord, as it was only visible in wavelengths that his merely mortal eyes would never be capable of registering. It connected him to the fake crystal junction in the celestial realm, which then connected through to Janesha.

"I made an end run around that attuned asshole." Janesha smirked. "There's more than one way to skin a talot. And trust me, when I _do_ catch up with him, and I _will_ , I'm gonna make him regret even _thinking_ about fucking with me through you two."

Belatedly, Danny must have realised who she was talking about. "Scion?" he asked. "Are you saying _Scion_ cancelled the powers you gave us?"

"Yeah, Danny, Scion pulled that shit." Janesha huffed irritably. "Don't look so shocked. That piss-ant yellow asshole wouldn't stand still long enough for me to talk to him, which tells me he's got a guilty conscience about _something_. And now he's trying to send me a message saying that he can cancel my protection on you if I don't back off? Well, screw him. You're mine and I'm protecting you anyway."

"So are you going to go looking for him again?" Danny seemed determined to state the obvious.

"Well, duh." She paused, reconsidering her answer. "But not right this second. Nobody threatens me or mine and just walks away. I _will_ have words with him about what the fuck he thinks he's doing with you and the other mortals on this world, and if I don't like the answers, he's not gonna like what I do next."

"Okay, so if you're not going after him, what will you be doing? Right now, I mean." He paused. "Going to school with Taylor, or heading off on your own?"

"Actually, seeing that nobody at school is likely to be bothering Taylor today, I was gonna take Cloudstrike for a nice long ride." Janesha smirked. "She's starting to get restless, and when mystallions get restless, they tend to break shit. Including whatever buildings they're stabled in." She tilted her head. "You know, you haven't been up on her yet. I could take you along for an hour or so."

"Hm." Danny smiled. "The way Taylor waxed lyrical about it, I'm actually tempted. But I've got responsibilities, which suddenly got a lot wider." He gestured at the wall, and by inference the busy office beyond. "Since you and the other capes cleared the Boat Graveyard, we've had all sorts of calls coming in asking about the port facilities. This, right here, is the opening up of a massive opportunity for Brockton Bay, and it's all due to you. So I'm going to have to call a rain check on that, but thanks for the offer. And say hi to Cloudstrike for me."

Janesha nodded. "I'll do that, Danny. And just between you and me, I'm glad it's you managing this situation. If I'm gonna do something nice for someone, I'd prefer that it get handled right, not half-assed." Hand raised in a wave, she realm-stepped back to the Hebert household.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

Leaning back on the sofa, watching TV and eating her sandwich, Taylor waved as Janesha appeared in the middle of the living room. "Oh, hey," she said, the words a little muffled. "How'd it go?"

"Went off without a hitch." Janesha plopped on to the sofa beside her. "He cancelled the protections on your dad too, but I renewed them and made the celestial connection. It's all above-board and automatic now, with the bonus that if I do have to do something in a hurry to save your lives or something, I've got constant contact with you."

Taylor shook her head with a smile. "Only you. Only you could take something like that and turn it into a positive."

"Hey, he started it." A dangerous glint came into Janesha's eye. "But if he tries pulling that shit again, I _will_ finish it."

"I don't doubt it for a second." The sandwich finished, Taylor sat up. "So, what are your plans? Are you still going after Coil? I know I told dad that I'd go to school, but let's be honest. I don't think Blackwell will be totally broken up if I don't show today." She snorted. "She's already got me down as a 'disruptive influence'."

Janesha raised an eyebrow. "You know, your dad's going to blame me for your sudden switch to the dark side, since I'm already playing hooky with my family?"

Taylor looked at her friend, then knotted her fingers into a double fist and rested them against her throat, batting her eyelashes playfully.

"I am too young to be dealing with that shit!" Janesha laughed, tossing a cushion at her friend hard enough to knock her off her feet. "Cut it out."

"C'mon, Janesha. You already said you were going to take Cloudstrike out for a long ride first, and sooner or later you're going to leave. You've gotta let me have as many rides as I can to remember you by. And then I can watch what you do to Coil. It was me he tried to kill, remember?"

"I _did_ plan on smacking Coil so hard his grandchildren will suffer a concussion," she admitted. "And I suppose it _was_ you that he screwed over."

"So, I get to go?"

Janesha scratched the back of her neck thoughtfully. "You know, how badly do you really want to finish school anyway?"

Taylor's gaze slitted suspiciously. She knew enough to know she probably wasn't going to like what came next. "Do I have to do one of those unspecified boon thingies?"

Janesha dropped her hand and shook her head. "No, not at all. It's just … you know how I can go into people's heads and look at memories after the event?"

"Yeah?"

Janesha sighed. "The truth is, I can do a lot more than that. People suffer amnesia all the time, but sometimes, it's a bender stealing their knowledge. And not just stealing it, but handing it over to someone else."

"What, like Victor of the Empire?"

Janesha scrunched up her nose. "Victor …" She held her hands about four inches apart. Then she opened the space to as wide as her hands could go. "... me."

Taylor suddenly realised what Janesha was offering her. "Not just no, but _hell_ no! In fact, never offer it again!" she practically shouted the last sentence, mortified that her friend was actually suggesting that she could take someone else's hard earned knowledge and just give it to her. "Ever, _ever_!"

"Okay, okay," Janesha said, waving her anger aside. "It was just a thought. Sheesh."

"A really, really, _really_ bad thought. My god! If dad had've heard that …"

"Calm down, petal. It's why I didn't offer it in front of him. Like you said, I'm not staying here forever, and if you miss too much school hanging out with me, then your future's gonna suffer for it."

Taylor tried to calm down by at least attempting to see it from Janesha's point of view. Unlike everyone else in the world, she mattered to Janesha. So when she found herself at an impasse, Janesha wanted to step up and fix it for her. That part was a really sweet offer. But the bit she couldn't get past was how little people still mattered to Janesha. She really didn't care about them, or about how hard they had to work to get where they were. To just take that from them because she could was ... wrong. Sooo wrong. "Just don't ever offer it again. I mean it. Not to me. Not to anyone. I'll take one of those unspecified boon thingies, if I have to, to stop you."

Janesha's eyes widened in surprise. "Do you want me to erase the last two minutes of conversation? I can if you want. I didn't mean to upset you."

Taylor had never been so tempted to take her friend up on her offer, but in the end, she shook her head. "No," she finally said. "My memories are mine, and I want to keep them. Just … promise me you won't ever offer anyone that again."

Janesha looked torn. "How about from here?" she offered in compromise. "You can't ask me to say I'll never do it again, petal. Once I leave here and go home, it's an entirely different ballgame back there, and you know it." She licked her lips, her brow creasing into a frown. "I'll never lie to you, petal. Not even when you want me to."

Taylor knew that. "Okay, fine. I won't do the boon thing, and I won't even ask you to promise me you won't. Just tell me you won't. That'll be enough for me."

Janesha relaxed and nodded. "I won't switch out knowledge while I'm here in Earth Bet, unless you or Danny ask me to."

"Janesha …"

"No, that's fair," Janesha insisted. "It's too hard to backpedal if, for whatever reason, something happens in the future that puts us in a position where we need it. Having one small out that puts you in control is the best I'm willing to offer." She raked her fingers through her hair and rubbed the base of her neck. "And I cannot even begin to describe the amount of shit I'm going to wear when my family finds out I handed control of anything over to a mortal. But that's exactly how much you've come to mean to me, petal."

Taylor didn't know what to think. On one hand, she was so flattered to have such a loyal friend, but on the other, her disinterest in the rights of everyone else was downright terrifying.

Perhaps she was looking at it the wrong way. She had presented her powerful friend with a problem, and expected Janesha to find a solution that met her moral standard. But what if she took Janesha out of the equation altogether? Owned her own space.

It was worth a try.

"I'm not going to school today," she declared. "I'm already weeks ahead of my classmates, despite all the time I was in hospital, and after everything that's happened, I'm entitled to a little me time, dammit."

Janesha grinned and opened her arms to her. "You absolutely are, petal," she said, wrapping her up in a tight hug. "You're entitled to anything you want." Wonderingly, she shook her head. "I can't believe I was actually thinking of a _mortal's_ future, even yours. That's like the weirdest thing ever."

"Yeah, yeah, because you'll live forever and I'll be dead in a century or two," snarked Taylor. "You don't need to rub it in."

Janesha shook her head. "No, it's not that. Celestials don't think of individual mortals' futures, because by the time we get around to putting things in motion to help them, that mortal's usually long dead. But I actually care about you and your dad, and how you'll do once I leave. How in Hell did this happen?"

Taylor considered her answer. Snark didn't seem to fit the occasion, and saying 'because you're more human than you think' might be mistaken for snark. So she hugged the other girl again. "I don't know, and I don't care," she said. "I'm just glad you're here and that you're our friend."

Janesha returned the hug. "I'm glad I'm here, too. I mean, my family _is_ gonna be giving me shit about this for the next millennium, but it'll still be worth it."

Taylor smirked and let Janesha go. "So, what's the plan?"

"Well, for one thing, I need you to show me where the base is."

Taylor tilted her head. "I'm pretty sure I told you it looked and felt like a secondary base. From the background of his CCTV footage, he was in a similar base, but my bugs couldn't find him anywhere."

"So we'll ask the guys we do find there, where to find the main base." Janesha grinned evilly as she smacked her fist into her palm. "I'll make sure they're falling all over themselves to tell us what they know."

"If there's even anyone there anymore." Taylor had been thinking about this. "Coil has got to know that I'm your friend. There's no way he can know you can read minds, but he's probably decided to abandon the base altogether in case I come back with you as backup. Because if the footage of you cleaning up the Boat Graveyard hasn't already made it to every villain gang in the city, I would be absolutely stunned and shocked."

Janesha wrinkled her nose. "I hate it when you use common sense and logic. Okay, fine. How do we find him?"

Taylor grinned. "Oh, I might have an idea or two."

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

There was no future for Thomas Calvert in Brockton Bay any more. In fact, he was starting to wonder if there was a future for him anywhere. Contessa had assured him that Taylor Hebert was no longer invulnerable, but the girl had then shrugged off massed assault-rifle fire like so many raindrops. Then she'd pursued the nearest group of soldiers, and leaped _through_ one of the vehicles, snagging one of his mercenaries on the way. Calvert had blown the vehicle, but it was too late. She had a survivor. Twenty minutes after that, he'd had to drop that timeline when Janesha, along with Taylor and Danny, had broken into his main base and proceeded to lay waste to it.

He was being thrown to the wolves by Cauldron. There was no other explanation for it. They'd set him up, and now they were going to let him take the entire fall. He blessed the fact that he'd never dropped the 'getting ready to run away' timeline and was in fact prepped to run right now. All of his bank accounts had been shifted to different numbered accounts in case someone tried to follow him that way and he was on the way out the door, right now.

It was time to shake the dust of Brockton Bay off his shoes forever.

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

"Okay, petal, work your magic."

It was odd, Janesha, mused, to be associating with a mortal who was capable of things she _couldn't_ automatically do, by virtue of being a celestial. She knew quite well it was due to the crystalline constructs that Scion had planted in the celestial realm, but who in their right mind would come up with bug control as a power to give to a mortal who wasn't their high priest? Empowering mortals was strictly a thing to give the high priests authority over the other believers, and to give them something to focus their belief on. "I believe in my god and he gave me this in return" was a powerful message, after all. So why just give _any_ old schmoe powers beyond those of mortal man? The superhero concept just didn't make sense to her at all.

"You got it." Taylor, riding behind Janesha, leaned out and peered down toward the ground. "Can we go a little lower?"

"Sure." Janesha gave the knee signal. Cloudstrike, her wings extended in a glide, turned her head and gave the celestial teen a look as if to say, _we're almost on the ground as it is. Are you_ ** _kidding_** _?_

"Go on, girl. Do it," murmured Janesha. "I'll make it up to you in a bit." With an irritated snort, Cloudstrike lost fifteen metres of altitude. She should by right have been satisfied with the hour-long ride Janesha and Taylor had taken her on—this time, Taylor had taken a camera and gotten some pretty nice photos—but now she was all charged up and wanted to go everywhere at top speed. Then again, that was Cloudstrike more or less all the time.

"Okay, I've got a good read of the ground now." Taylor took a deep breath. "I just don't know how slow we're going to have to go for me to register and notice bugs significantly below ground."

"Oh, _that_ bit I've got covered." Janesha threw a smirk over her shoulder. "I'll go through your memory, then head over to your imagination where we can look it over in a more understandable format. You good with that?"

At Taylor's nod, Janesha's smirk broadened. "Hold on. This might get a little jerky."

This wasn't the way Janesha had foreseen spending her morning, but after Taylor had posited using her power to detect significant numbers of bugs _underground_ , it seemed the most effective move. Zipping back and forth across the city, moving over after each pass just far enough that they didn't miss any significant area of land, was going to be more tedious than time-consuming. She was pretty sure she'd have to take Cloudstrike out for another ride after this, to apologise for the absolutely petty use they were making of her flying capability.

Across the city. Back again. And again. And again. The buildings blurred in her mind, but that didn't matter. In her memory, where it mattered, the images would all be razor-sharp.

Cloudstrike was travelling much faster than the speed of sound, so Janesha considerately made sure they wouldn't be bombarding the city with multiple overlapping sonic booms. Not that she particularly cared about the city or their windows—as low and fast as Cloudstrike was flying, those would be _gone_ —but because Taylor cared. And because it didn't overly matter to her one way or the other, she made that little extra effort to be nice to the mortals.

They were well into the foothills before Janesha twitched the reins. "Whoa up, girl. We're done." She shaded her eyes to look at the distant glint of the ocean. "Took less time than I thought, too. You are _good._ " Leaning forward, she slapped the mystallion on the side of the neck and scratched behind her ears.

Cloudstrike tossed her head and nickered proudly. Of course she was good, Janesha translated. She was a _mystallion._ Nothing mortal—and few things celestial—would be able to keep up with her.

"That's it? Wow, that didn't take long." When Janesha looked around, Taylor was a little windblown. "I hope you can get the information you need."

Janesha grinned. "Whenever you're ready, petal."

Taylor nodded. "Let's do this."

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

Barely had the words escaped her lips than she was standing in a darkened room next to Janesha. The room was large and circular, and it contained a glowing circular blob in the middle. As she watched in fascination, strips started colouring themselves in, about four inches wide at a time. Leaning down toward the first strip, she saw the Boardwalk. Even the pedestrians were represented, as tiny as they were, so clearly that she could make out what they were holding in their hands. Straightening up, she watched as the strips flickered into existence, building more and more of the city out of nothing.

"I'm impressed," she said. "I didn't think I saw everything this sharply."

"You didn't." Janesha smirked. "I'm adding my memories to yours. Besides, we've both seen the city from the air before. Most of this is stuff we already know." She gestured toward the the map as it finished filling itself in. "No, what we're looking for is in your memories of where the bugs were."

The map faded a little, then a constellation of tiny stars sprang up across Brockton Bay. The vast majority were white, but a significant fraction were red. Frowning, Taylor looked more closely. "White is above-ground?" she guessed. It certainly seemed that way.

"Got it in one." Janesha clapped her hands, and the white stars winked out. The red remained. There were quite a few, though, scattered across the city. "Okay, now to eliminate other areas. Where do you find bugs underground when they're not in a supervillain's base?"

"Huh." Taylor frowned. "Sewers and storm drains?" She pointed at where lines of red dots connected in networks across the city.

"Good one." Janesha gestured, and the storm drains disappeared. She pointed at a section of map where a tall building stood. "There's significant underground space under that one. Think it could be what we're looking for?"

Taylor looked more closely, then shook her head. "Ah, no. That's not it. That's the Medhall building. Besides, those sub-basements go down, not outward."

"Okay, then." Janesha dispelled the Medhall basements from the image, then pointed toward the northern part of the city, where the Trainyards were. "Is that where he was keeping you?"

"Yup. I doubt there's anyone there, though. After all, he's gotta know how powerful you are. And I was ripping doors off their hinges. Secure, the place ain't."

Janesha snickered. "Nice. Okay … we have a few more larger collections of bugs. What about there, there and there?" She pointed.

"Ah." Taylor rubbed her chin, then indicated one. "That's an Endbringer shelter. I had a drill there once. That's one, too. And that one … that one … that one … wait a minute."

Eyes coming alert with sharp interest, Janesha leaned forward. "What is it?"

Taylor pointed at one particular congregation of red sparks, showing several rooms on different levels. "I don't know what that one is. It's not an official Endbringer shelter. We have to study the maps, just to make sure we know where our nearest one is."

Janesha cracked her knuckles and grinned evilly. _"Gotcha."_

* * *

End of Part Fourteen


	16. Chapter 15

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Fifteen: Dead End

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Karen Buckeridge, author of Ties That Bind and the sequel (soon to be published)_ _ **The Long Way Home**_ _.]_

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

The last thing Calvert wanted his minions to know was where he was going, or that he was even going anywhere. He certainly didn't want them to know that he'd just cut all payments to their accounts. At his side was a briefcase containing a laptop, hard drives and the other paraphernalia he would need to rebuild his organisation at a time and place of his choosing.

Typing a few final commands into his computer setup, he split time.

In one timeline, he took up the briefcase, exited his office and moved along the catwalk toward the garage exit. Fortunately, he'd dropped the timeline where he'd executed Creep, so he gave orders for the man to come with him. This was absolutely normal behaviour for him, and he did his best to play the part.

In the other, he clicked the mouse on a particular point of his computer screen, and heard the door lock engage. Moving with controlled haste, he stripped out of his costume and donned casual clothing, including a jacket loose enough to hide a shoulder holster containing a silenced nine millimetre Glock. Taking up the briefcase, he went to the wall where a large framed plan of the base held pride of place. Pressing one side about halfway down elicited a click, then the entire frame swivelled aside to reveal a passage beyond. After he stepped through, it swung shut behind him.

Nobody could know where he'd gone. He decided that the iteration of him with Creep would change in the van as per normal and have Creep drive him halfway home. Then he'd order the man to pull into a quiet side-street where he'd discreetly shoot him, then take over driving. Once he was well out of town, he'd roll the body out of the van and keep going.

For the other one, he kept an SUV in a lockup garage, just half a block from his bolt-hole. The man who came by once a week to turn the engine over and make sure it was in running order had no idea of the true identity of his employer, or that the vehicle was about to disappear.

Either way, the computer system back in the base had been set up to detonate the base self-destruct in exactly fifteen minutes. It wasn't as though he was ever going to be using it again, and the death and destruction would go a long way toward distracting the police and PRT from paying attention to one innocuous vehicle driving sedately out of town.

As the version of him still in the base reached the vehicle garage and opened the back of the van to climb in, the other one climbed a ladder and carefully pushed a manhole aside to scan the street above.

The plan was proceeding apace.

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

Dropping back into reality on the back of a flying mystallion wasn't exactly unusual for Janesha, and she turned Cloudstrike's head toward the base they'd located. "Okay," she said. "Time to go kill two birds with one stone." It was something that had just occurred to her, and she was kicking herself for not tumbling to it earlier.

"What do you mean, two birds with one stone?" Taylor clearly hadn't thought matters all the way through. Of course, she also didn't have Janesha's ability to spend a virtual week going over every last potential aspect of a situation.

"Coil's obviously a chosen one of Scion," Janesha explained. She'd put a bit of thought into it, and this was the only way it made sense. "That's a local version of someone on their way to being a high priest. He's been chosen, and now he has to prove himself before he gets the ultimate package. That'll be why he's not still gold and stinky, and why Scion took took down your protection after Coil failed to kill you the first time, and why he hasn't tried since. Scion wants his chosen one to succeed, so he warned him not to try until you were killable. On an up note, that also means once I start going toe to toe with Coil, Scion'll probably show up in person." She cracked her knuckles. "I just wish I'd known this _before_ I spent all that time chasing that yellow streak of shit all over the fucking planet. This way, _he_ comes to _me._ "

"But if Scion's an established and attuned god in this realm, can't he basically do anything he wants to us, and we've got no way to stop him? Why wouldn't he just stand off and take us out from range?"

Taylor, it seemed, had been listening to her lessons. But she hadn't been listening hard _enough._

"Because if he could've taken me out, he'd have done that already," she answered. "Whatever way he's got his powerbase setup, it's still clearly inferior to me. We don't run from things we can beat, petal, and there's no such thing as being 'almost' able to beat someone. You're either gonna win or you're gonna lose. And from the way Scion's hiding under the covers like a little bitch, he figures he can't win against me even _with_ his establishment field.

"But Coil's an asset of his, so when I start dragging every last memory out of him, Scion's gonna have to either show up and get his ass tied in a neat bow knot, or let his chosen one suffer. Oh, and by the way? Gods know every last thing that gets inflicted on their chosen ones, including all the pain and humiliation they might suffer. It's sort of a reflection on them, you might say. No celestial who wants to keep his worshippers will let that happen to a chosen one. Especially when there's plenty of witnesses. If that happens, and word spreads, mortal belief in you can take a massive hit."

When Taylor spoke, she sounded dubious. "Um, I'm not a regular churchgoer, but—"

 _Trust a mortal to come up with_ ** _that_** _counter-argument._ Janesha let out an aggravated sigh. "Two things, before you go any further. Firstly, do you seriously think the Almighty would let his only son be killed, if it wasn't already part of his big plan? That guy's an even bigger control freak than Uncle Avis, and trust me, that's saying a lot. Yeshua's treatment by Heaven's mortals was _planned_ by his father, the Almighty. There were prophecies up the yin-yang for about a thousand years before. And then he pulled the 'return to life' schtick to nail the whole thing down for the mortals. Gets 'em every time. And secondly, like I said, Yeshua wasn't a chosen one. He was, and still is, the Almighty's son."

"I wasn't actually going to mention him," Taylor said. "I just remember hearing about those saints and martyrs, who had a _crapload_ of things happen to them. And then there was Job, who the devil—Lucifer, I'm guessing, from what you've told me—kept talking the Almighty into tormenting more, just to prove his faith wouldn't break? I mean, what's _that_ all about?"

"Take that up with him when you die," Janesha said. "Most of the time, no one ever understands why another pantheon does some of the shit they do. They just do it. Ask me why Mystal does what it does, 'cause that I can answer."

"Oh. Okay." Apparently deciding to take Janesha at her word, Taylor leaned over and looked down at the ground below. "So, how do we find Coil now?"

"We've got a couple of choices," Janesha decided. "He's got to be aware we're on his ass after trying to kill you so if he's got half a brain, he'll be thinking about pulling up stakes and leaving town. We know where his home base is, so we can either sit on top of him and wait for him to stick his head out, or we can go in and flush him out."

"Which means that if he's decided to turtle up, we'll catch him at home," Taylor added. "But what if he's already gone?" She waved her arm over the expanse of Brockton Bay. "He could be anywhere. I mean, he might not even live on base, and once he's away from there, he could be any _one._ "

"Not so," Janesha countered. "The bits and pieces we've got so far give us a reasonable description; tall and skinny, with a weird snake costume." She shook her head. "I swear, you guys and your superhero stories."

"That's the thing, though." Taylor wasn't letting it go. "Out of costume, he could be any tall, skinny guy we see on the street." She didn't point out that her own father also fitted that description, though Janesha knew they could rule him out. She'd been through his mind pretty thoroughly, after all.

Janesha shook her head. "That's it, then. We're going in. If he's in there, we'll catch him. And if he's done a runner, the sooner we find out where he might be going, the better."

"Sounds good to me," Taylor agreed. "Are we going in through the roof, or looking for a door?"

"Doors?" Janesha snorted. "Where we're going, we don't need _doors._ " With a smirk—some Earlafaol movies were more entertaining than they had any right to be—she nudged Cloudstrike with her knee. The mystallion obediently swooped down and around. There was a half-completed office building almost directly over the site of the base, so she aimed for that. It made for a good landmark.

"Wait!" called out Taylor, just as Cloudstrike's hooves were coming down for a landing. The mystallion beat her wings twice, then touched down gently on the rough ground.

"What?" asked Janesha, turning to look at her mortal friend. "Not getting second thoughts now, are we?" As far as she was concerned, second thoughts happened to _other_ people.

"No, I thought I just saw someone climbing out of a manhole, over that way," Taylor said, pointing back along the way they'd come. "I didn't get a really good look at him, but let's be honest, how many people just climb out of manholes these days?"

The question was so obviously rhetorical that Janesha didn't even bother trying to answer it. "Hup, Cloudstrike!" she called. With a snort, the mystallion brought her wings down in a thunderclap of air that blew a huge cloud of dust across the construction site and launched them skyward once more.

As Cloudstrike wheeled across the sky on a return path, Janesha dipped into her own memories, trying to figure out if she'd seen what Taylor was talking about. They'd glided over several streets in a row, with seventeen manholes that she could count in her field of view. But no matter how she examined them in her own mind, she couldn't see anyone climbing out of them.

"You mind if I have a quick look at your memories?" she asked, turning her head so that Taylor was in her field of view. "I just need to see which one you're talking about."

"Oh, sure." Taylor chuckled. "This'll make it a lot easier than trying to say—"

Permission achieved, Janesha went into her memories without further delay. It was the work of a moment to pick out the snapshot of memory that Taylor's enhanced brain had taken. _Well, it's a good thing I fixed her eyes when I did._ If Janesha hadn't been given her the visual _and_ neural improvements, the memory would've been blurred and distorted, but this was sharp as a tack. And while the still picture was useful, from there she was able to trace back to the original experience, clear and sharp; a tall, skinny man climbing out of a manhole, as Taylor had said. She'd half-turned her head by instinct to get a better look, but by that time they'd been past him and over into the next street.

Stepping over into Taylor's imagination, Janesha pulled Taylor herself in as well.

"—over there, no, that way …" Taylor trailed off and looked around the projection room Janesha had set up. "Ah, We're in my mind again, aren't we?" She didn't even seem surprised anymore.

"Yup." Janesha grinned and shoulder-bumped her best mortal friend. "And you've got the goods. Check it out." Up on the screen popped an image of the man Taylor had seen. A baseball cap shaded his features, but it was easy to see that he was definitely on the lanky side, wearing a jacket over casual clothing. He was in the process of climbing up out of a manhole, as the tenth-of-a-second footage showed.

"Damn, you did good work on my eyes," Taylor exclaimed. "Oh, and this is definitely him. No two ways about it."

"Well, the snapshot capability you chose also helped a lot," Janesha agreed. "Not that I'm doubting you on purpose, but how can you be so certain now that you've seen him?" To herself, she snorted in amusement. At the end of the day, what did she care if they killed a few wrong mortals before finding the right one? _Because Taylor would care. And so would Danny._ She sighed to herself. Life had been so much easier before she came to Earth Bet, when she did what she wanted and didn't give a shit .

Taylor pointed at the screen. "There was a non-zero chance that he was a city worker of some sort. Manholes are there for a reason, you know. But if he'd been down there on official business, he would've been wearing a hard-hat. No hard-hat means no good reason for being down there."

" … huh." Janesha shook her head as she stared at the image. "I would've looked straight at that for a thousand years and not figured that one out." She put her arm around Taylor's shoulders for a side-hug. ""Nice going."

"Thanks." Taylor peered at the image intently. "So what are we gonna do now?"

"Simple. We find him and we explain to him in words of one syllable or less how it's a really, really bad idea to piss us off." Janesha grinned and let Taylor go so she could crack her knuckles. "And when the golden dipshit shows up, I'll be asking _him_ some stringent questions along those lines, too."

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

In the one timeline, Calvert hurried along the street to the lockup garage. He thought he'd seen a white flicker in the sky just as he was climbing out of the manhole, which meant that the clock was running down faster than he'd previously expected. _I didn't move a moment too soon._

* * *

In the other timeline, he got into civilian clothing and climbed forward to the front of the van. "Drive," he told Creep.

"Where to?" asked his minion.

"I'll give you directions."

As the van started off up the ramp out of the undercover parking lot, he brushed his hand against the pistol riding on his right hip under the jacket. Creep was useful, right up until he wasn't. As soon as he could be sure he'd gotten away, he would dispose of the man. Janesha Nascerdios of Mystal was good; there was no disputing that, but he'd never heard of anyone _anywhere_ who could read the thoughts of a dead man. Even Cranial needed a living brain, or so he understood.

* * *

Back in the first timeline, he reached the lockup garage in question. It had a combination keypad, because keys could so easily be lost or stolen. With iron discipline, he forced himself to enter the code correctly the first time, because he wasn't at all sure he had time for a second try. The lock clicked and the door opened, and he slipped inside.

Janesha was on his trail in this timeline but not the other; that was clear. A lesser man would have dropped this timeline and followed the other one, but he never discarded an asset until absolutely necessary. Until he'd disposed of Creep and was out of town, he would not consider himself in the clear. And if he could manage to escape in both timelines, all the better.

* * *

 **Contessa**

* * *

"I need ideas." Fortuna paced back and forth in her office. "The little Mystallian shit's not letting this go. Right now, Scion's too scared of her to poke his head out, but if she locates him and gets a ranged bending attack in on him, he's fucked. She'll know everything about why he's here, and about the loss of the other one."

"Uh, why's that such a bad thing, I mean apart from the fact that he won't be killing her?" asked Clare, hastily tacking on the addendum as her glare in his direction became more intense. "It's not like he knows anything about us, right?"

Fortuna lunged across the room and smashed him against the wall with her hand around his throat. "If I have to explain to you one more time about not questioning my decisions, I _will_ rip out your fucking tongue," she hissed. "Scion killing her is what we _need_ to happen. If they end up on good terms, or with her in charge, it'll be a lot harder to kill her anonymously. If he kills her, Earlafaol's defenses will be a lot easier to fuck over. The only way we get out of this on top, is if _Scion. Kills. Janesha._ " She emphasised her words by slamming him against the wall with each syllable. "So stop asking stupid fucking questions and give me some answers instead. How do we bait Scion into killing Janesha?"

"Make him angry, I guess." That was Dorian. "Make him angry at Janesha. Make him think Janesha did something to him, personally." He paused, his eyes widening. "What if we made him think Janesha was somehow responsible for killing his sister?"

"Why would he believe that?" Clare's voice, now that Fortuna had released his throat, was full of derision. "That happened thirty years ago. Janesha wasn't here, then. She wasn't even fucking _born_ then."

Dorian casually backhanded him to the floor. " _We_ know that, but Scion's an idiot _._ He's fucking _clueless._ " His words were more for Fortuna than Clare. "It's not like we have to tell him the fucking _truth_ about anything."

Fortuna nodded slowly. "That might work. Maybe. But we've got to be absolutely fucking careful about it. Whoever tells _him_ about it, it can't be us. Because when he kills that little shit, and the Mystallians arrive and kill _him_ for it, you can be certain they'll go through his mind to find out why. And the very fucking last thing we need is for them to find our smiling faces behind it all."

Clare shrugged as he climbed to his feet. His fingertips brushed his throat then fell away again without actually massaging it. Showing any kind of weakness automatically made any of them a target to those further up the food chain, and none of them went there if they could possibly help it. "Sure, I guess. So who are we gonna use for our patsy?"

That was indeed the question of the millennium. It was a good thing Fortuna had a way to get an answer. Glaring at Dorian and Clare indiscriminately, she hissed, " _Find_ someone."

And in the meantime, she decided, she'd see what her luck could throw up.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

Janesha brought Cloudstrike to a hover above the street. Taylor and Janesha both peered down at the now-closed manhole, as if it could tell them its secrets. Taylor didn't bother saying _I'm sure this is the right one_ out loud, because they'd both spent the last fifteen virtual minutes making totally certain of that fact. The problem was, there was no sign that anyone had even climbed out of it, much less where they were now. While there were people on the street, none of them matched the appearance of Coil in plain clothes.

She watched Janesha flicking her gaze from one person to the next, and she knew without asking that the celestial teen was perusing their recent memories to see if any of them had spotted their quarry. Part of her wanted to protest over the invasion of privacy, but she repressed the impulse to say something. Coil had abducted her and done his best to kill her; the sooner they could locate him, the sooner Janesha could get her answers. Starting with 'what the fuck were you thinking?'.

"This way," Janesha said, nudging the mystallion with her knees. "That guy over there saw him walking this way pretty quickly." Obediently, Cloudstrike flew down the street while the girls searched the sidewalk on either side to no effect.

"He can't have gone far," Taylor said, trying not to voice the frustration at having him _right there_ and having missed him yet again. "The guy see which way he went?"

"No." Janesha's tone exhibited the annoyance Taylor felt. "They brushed past each other when he came out of a bookshop." She pointed at a row of shop-fronts, specifically Callighan's Bookstore. "That one, actually. So wherever he is, it's somewhere past that point."

"Which means he's on the move or he's hiding. Either way, he can't have gone more than a block." Taylor brought up her awareness of all the bugs in the vicinity. "I'm going to look for him. Just keep going this way, at about walking pace."

Janesha wrinkled her nose. "Cloudstrike isn't a car that crawls along the street just because you want her to. If we're only going at walking speed, we might as well get off and walk ourselves. We've got a better chance of spotting him this way." At some signal from her, the mystallion came in for a landing. Ignoring the stares and photos being taken of them, the two got off, then stood back as Cloudstrike took off in a hurricane of wind.

"Sorry, you're right." Taylor felt bad for forgetting that the gorgeous celestial creature was a thinking being, with her own likes and dislikes. This didn't prevent her from gathering a swarm that began to investigate every building in the vicinity, focusing on the ones ahead of them. Overhead, Cloudstrike wheeled and dived in the sunlight, quite obviously enjoying the chance to just play.

"She'll probably demand more ear-scratches from you tonight," Janesha observed. "Finding anything?"

"Not yet," admitted Taylor. "There's a lot to sift through, though. I just hope he doesn't have a Changer rating because if he does, we'll be here all day while he could be on his way out of town and we'd never notice him. And we _still_ don't know what Scion's given him to use as his chosen one."

Janesha smirked. "I hope he thinks it'll be good enough to go up against me. I really do."

"You're mean." Taylor shot Janesha a sideways glance, then she grinned in return. "I fully approve. Coil sent men to kidnap me, then he tried to kill me when that went bad. Then he got Scion to drop my protections so he could have another try, but you screwed that up for him. I'm not sure what Coil's got against me, except that I survived his first attempt at murdering me, but he could be endangering basically everyone around me so we need to stop him."

This got a shrug from Janesha. "He messed with me and mine, and tried to steal my gold, so I just want to kick his ass." Taylor couldn't argue with that.

They strolled on down the street, while all around them her swarm busily catalogued everyone within her range. Bug senses were still crap, but she could tell a lot from touch. There were a few tall men, and a few skinny ones, but none that were quite as tall or skinny as Coil.

 _Where_ ** _is_** _he?_

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

Calvert sat in the driver's seat of the SUV within the lock-up garage, barely daring to breathe in case the ridiculously overpowered pair of girls _walking past on the street outside_ somehow detected his presence. On his phone, he could see the output of the security camera above the roller-door of the garage, which included a good view of both Janesha Nascerdios and Taylor Hebert.

In his other hand was the ignition key to the vehicle; despite the muggy, stale air inside the car, he dared not crack a window in case she heard his heartbeat or something equally stupid. So he sat there with sweat trickling down his forehead and into his eyes—partly from the humidity and partly from the tension—and he waited. And waited.

* * *

In the other timeline, the van pulled farther and farther away from the base. Fifteen minutes was his deadline; there was no way they'd get far enough away that Creep would not know something was up when the destruct charges blew. So when the time on his watch ticked down to fourteen minutes, he knew it was time. "Over there," he directed Creep. "Pull into that side street."

* * *

With one minute to go, Calvert decided it was a good idea to move on the second timeline as well. Hitting the remote on the dash, he watched the roller-door begin to rumble upward. At the same time, he put the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine caught immediately, and he cranked the air-conditioning up high. Chilly air began flushing through the car, drying his sweat almost immediately. Putting the SUV into gear, he rolled it forward as the roller-door got high enough to drive under.

* * *

Creep pulled the van to a halt. "Okay, what now?" he asked.

"Just a minute," Calvert said, then pulled the pistol from the holster at his waist. The trouble was, his elbow was up against the door frame, and he was going to have to aim across his body to get Creep. The other trouble was, by the time he got his weapon out, Creep had one drawn as well.

"Sir, I really thought better of you." Creep's tone was polite but reproachful. The big man had levered himself around in his seat and while he held his pistol in his left hand, it didn't seem to be affecting his aim. "But I know what people thinks of me, so I goes armed most places. An' when it seemed you was just drivin' around, lookin' for the right place for a quiet spot of murder, that's when I started thinkin' really hard."

"This—" Calvert cut himself off. _This isn't what it looks like._ Of course it was what it looked like. "We can still part on good terms. Just get out and walk—"

The base must have blown several seconds earlier; the truck jolted, then the long rolling _booom_ swept overhead. Creep's eyes widened. "You fucker! You blew—"

If he was to have any chance to get Creep, it was now, while the mercenary was distracted. Calvert went for it, jerking his pistol into line and firing as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, he wasn't quite fast enough.

* * *

Grimacing, Calvert shut down that timeline. He'd gotten Creep several times, but the mercenary had retaliated in kind. Without immediate medical care, both would have died in short order. Recognising mortal wounds was not a skill many managed to acquire, but he was adept at it by now. It was irritating as _hell_ that the man had been that much on the ball, but he _had_ hired him as a mercenary, as well as for his other proclivities. Mercenaries who were stupid didn't last long.

It was getting unreasonably chilly in the cabin of the SUV, now that the air conditioning had chased the last of the muggy air out. Shutting it down, he buzzed the window down and rested his elbow on the sill, breathing appreciatively of the fresh air that blasted into the vehicle. That was the air of freedom, of new beginnings. He wasn't sure where he'd set up again, just so long as it was far, far away from Brockton Bay, Janesha Nascerdios of Mystal … and Taylor Hebert.

If he never saw _her_ again, it would be way too soon.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

"Okay, where the hell _did_ he go?"

Janesha growled the words as they circled over the area on Cloudstrike's back once more. Ten minutes of walking had convinced them that he'd somehow managed to go to ground, or perhaps he'd doubled back on them. Janesha had whistled Cloudstrike down to them, and now they were looking from the air.

 _Or maybe he's a cape after all,_ thought Taylor gloomily. _Maybe he's a Mover, and he's already drinking mai tais in Hawaii, or champagne on top of the Eiffel Tower._

"I have absolutely no idea," she replied to Janesha's (admittedly rhetorical) question. "I should've tagged him the second I saw him, but I didn't think of it. I just don't get how he got around us. I'm _sure_ my bugs found everyone in the area, and _nobody_ fit his body type."

"Maybe Scion got to him first, and moved him somewhere else before we could get to him." Janesha sounded irritated at the possibility. "Which would make sense, but I didn't think goldilocks actually had that much going on upstairs. I think—"

Whatever she thought went by the wayside as a long rolling _booom_ rolled across them, causing Cloudstrike to gain a few dozen yards in altitude and turn toward whatever had made the noise. Unlike an ordinary horse, she didn't shy. Mystallions, she mused, were as hard-headed and determined as their riders.

"What was _that_?" Taylor would've been the first to admit that she'd been taken by surprise.

"It came from where the base was," Janesha reported tightly. "Do you often have large explosions in your city?"

"Not as a rule," Taylor replied, tightening her grip as Janesha sent Cloudstrike arrowing toward the plume of dust and smoke that was even now climbing skyward above the site of the base. "Not that big, anyway. The Empire Eighty-Eight and ABB used to leave car bombs in each others' territory, but ... "

She trailed off as her eyes fell on a dark blue SUV that had stopped at a set of traffic lights, just ahead and below. "Janesha, go into my mind, quick!"

To her credit, no time seemed to pass before they were seated on the lounge in Taylor's living room. "Okay, we're in your imagination," Janesha observed. "What's up? What did you see?"

"I didn't want to miss it this time," Taylor said. "There's a blue SUV at the lights just below us. I want to go back through my memories and figure out exactly _where_ I've seen it before. Because I _know_ I have, recently. I just don't know where."

Janesha's lips curved in a smile of appreciation. "Petal, you never cease to amaze." She didn't even flicker before the TV vanished and the entire wall became a screen. "Vision only, or the bug senses as well?"

"Everything." Taylor leaned forward. "Start at the point we got off Cloudstrike and started walking. Put the SUV at the lights beside the rest of it."

The screen split again, and the image of the blue vehicle popped into view. Then the other imagery started rolling. Taylor found that the three-dimensional mapping that the bugs were capable of was even more impressive when it was outside her own head. Building after building was filled in, along with the people inside them. Each time she determined they weren't Coil's body type, she tagged and discarded them.

And then, as they came level with a graffiti-covered rusty roller-door, the bugs began to outline a vehicle inside the space within. There were no people in the garage with the vehicle, but the doors were closed and the windows rolled up. The bugs covered the exterior well enough to get a good read on its dimensions before Taylor moved on yet again.

Janesha froze the wire-frame image and rotated it to compare with the blue SUV. They matched as perfectly as the resolution allowed. "It could be," she breathed. "It really could be."

"Oh, one more thing." Taylor pointed at the screen. "The bug senses. They have trouble seeing details, but color's something most bugs can see."

"Let's see." Next to each bug, a circle popped on to the screen, showing what it had seen while perching on the vehicle. One after the other, the circles filled in with varying shades of blue. Janesha bared her teeth and pumped her fist. "Fuckin' _got_ him."

Taylor concentrated and pulled out the image of the SUV to fill the screen. "Okay, so how do you want to play this?"

Janesha waved her hand carelessly. "We swoop down until I get a look at him. He pulls over, all nice and obedient, and hands himself over to us. Then I drill out every last memory of what shit he's pulled, and find out what the fuck's going through his head."

"Yeah, that could work." Taylor rubbed her chin. "Can I offer a minor revision?"

"Revision?" Janesha stared at her, eyebrows raised. "I don't do 'revisions'."

"Yeah, but if we do it _this_ way ... " Taylor explained for a few moments.

Janesha grinned. "Okay, I admit it. That sounds like a lot more fun. We'll do it your way."

* * *

 **Contessa**

* * *

"Contessa!" Dorian called, his hand hooked under Clare's arm as the bigger man half carried, half dragged his drooling brother into the room.

Contessa cleared her screens and turned her full attention to her open doorway, just as Dorian hit the door closer to separate them from the rest of Cauldron.

As soon as he did, Clare lifted his chin and sanity returned to his features. "The little Mystallian shit's about to intercept Coil! It's all going sideways!"

The break in his character was a minor transgression; without witnesses, she could give it a pass. Contessa looked from one to the other and back again. "And that matters to us, why?" she asked, for it had been in her own plan to finish off Coil at their next meeting, and if Janesha was going to do it for her, so much the better.

"Commander, he's seen your face! He knows about Cauldron! You _know_ she'll come looking for you for answers!"

In that instant, Fortuna knew she'd screwed up. It was true that Coil knew nothing of her _as a celestial_. But that had nothing to do with her being a founding member of Cauldron, which he did know of. And as irritating as he was, Clare was dead right about Janesha not being willing to let things go. The little shit _would_ push and prod and undermine her secret organisation on Earth Bet.

"Fuck it," she said with a grimace. "Find me the biggest sniper rifle you can. Dorian, put me on a nearby rooftop. We're cleaning this shit up now."

There was no banter, no backchat. Even reduced to just three people, Abaddon was still a team that got the objective done. The flames flared brightly in Clare's eye-sockets as he sought the weapon that Fortuna wanted. Turning, he communicated wordlessly with Dorian, who opened a portal in midair, reached inside, and pulled out a monstrous rifle; more than two metres long, it looked as though it could bring down a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Or a low-flying aircraft.

Fortuna took the rifle as Dorian created another portal, and she stepped through. The rooftop beyond was flat and empty of people. Twenty floors below, and about a mile away, a mystallion swooped down toward a dark blue SUV just now pulling away from a set of traffic lights.

Settling down on the rooftop, she sighted in on the target. _You ain't getting shit, bitch._

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

"Ready, petal?"

Crouched precariously on the saddle with her hands on Janesha's shoulders, Taylor called out, "Ready!"

Had it not been for the improvements Janesha made to her body and mind, and her deep and abiding anger against Coil, she would not have suggested this. Hell, she wouldn't even have _considered_ this. But she'd made the suggestion, and Janesha had agreed too quickly for her to have second thoughts. So now she was committed. And if she was honest with herself, she was quite looking forward to this. The opportunity to pull an honest-to-goodness badass move did not come along every day, after all.

Cloudstrike swooped lower and Taylor judged the distance. She didn't know how wind resistance would affect her body, so she was going to jump a little farther forward than she would normally have done, if performing this over a static target. Not that she'd ever considered _doing_ this over any kind of target, static or otherwise. It was just another sign of how weird her life had gotten since she met Janesha.

"I'm jumping on three!" she called.

"Right!" Janesha gave her a thumb's up.

"One!"

"One!" echoed the celestial girl.

"Two!"

Again, Janesha repeated the word.

"Three!" And before she could tell herself _no, don't do it, this is a stupid idea,_ she launched herself off the auxiliary saddle, into midair. Directly toward the roof of Coil's SUV.

Arms at her sides and legs held straight, she realised that she'd jumped too hard, that she was going to land on the hood. Belatedly, she spread her limbs wide. The wind tore at her, but that was nothing. All around Coil's vehicle, cars were slowing or swerving as drivers noticed her (or Cloudstrike). _Shit, I hope he doesn't realise what's happening._

She slammed into the roof of the vehicle with tremendous force, driving a huge dent into it. The SUV swerved but she'd already latched on to it, her fingertips gouging handholds in the yielding metal. Seconds later, a series of gunshots rang out. A hole was punched through the roof three inches to the left of her head, then she felt three impacts to her torso. It was like someone had jabbed her with a blunt stick. _Janesha, I love you. Now for act two._

Kneeling up on the roof as the SUV began to accelerate, she let go of her left-side hand-hold. She could figure out his strategy; speed up, then hit the brakes. Even with the strength to bend metal in her hands, she would not be able to maintain her grip. Once she was off the vehicle, he would be able to outrun her. Or so he thought. Had he forgotten about Cloudstrike, or was he simply panicking and trying anything and everything?

Still, he was definitely doing over the speed limit, and was a danger to everyone else on the road. Taking a firm grip on the top of the passenger-side door frame, she reached over and ripped the door clean off its hinges. Then she took hold of the door frame and swung in through the gap.

* * *

 **Coil**

* * *

Calvert stared at Taylor Hebert, pointing the smoking pistol in her general direction. He'd split time repeatedly since the impact on the roof of the SUV, and none of it had done a damn bit of difference. Shooting; not shooting. Speeding up; slowing down. Swerving to get rid of her; driving straight.

The second-last thing that went through his mind was _I just can't fucking win._

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

"Put the gun down and stop the car," she said firmly. "I'm not gonna tell you twice." Reaching out, she grabbed the firearm. It went off again; the bullet pinged off her shoulder, and she was showered with blood and brains.

 _Shit!_ She had no idea what was going on, and blood was all over her face and in her eyes. Even as she wiped them clear, the SUV swerved with a dead foot on the accelerator and a dead hand on the steering wheel. It was too late to grab the wheel, and _far_ too late to reach across and turn the ignition off. As the SUV bounced off the curb and began to roll over, she grabbed for what handholds she could, acutely conscious of the fact that she'd _just ripped the damn door off._

And then she was tumbling over and over in what had shortly before been a pristine off-road vehicle and was now rapidly becoming an undriveable wreck. In between impacts, she tried to figure out what had happened to Coil. His gun had gone off and … what? Ricocheted from her shoulder, and blown his own brains out? _Didn't that sort of thing only happen in the weirder cape comics and convoluted conspiracy theories?_ And seriously, unless that last bullet had been _way_ overpowered, she was pretty sure that people's heads didn't fly apart from a single, ricocheted pistol shot.

After rolling over at least half a dozen times—Coil had been going _way_ too fast for safety—the SUV skidded to a halt. Somewhere along the way, the engine had stalled out, but Taylor's ears were still ringing from the multiple impacts of the vehicle on the roadway. And of course, she was covered in blood. She had to go on faith that none of it was hers. Sitting up on the underside of the roof of the vehicle, she bumped her head on the passenger seat, then tried again to wipe her eyes and face clear. It didn't help that Coil was hanging upside down, tangled in his seat belt; more specifically, he didn't have much of a head left.

"Wow, fuck." She looked down at herself, and shuddered. Up until this point, 'covered with blood' had always been a figure of speech. Even inside the locker, she hadn't been so thoroughly drenched in the contents as she was now. In fact, thanks to Coil's recent and very messy death, the interior of the SUV looked like several people had come to a bad end in there. Vaguely, she recalled a line from Shakespeare regarding 'who knew how much blood he had in him'. Right then, she knew exactly what that meant.

"Taylor, are you alright? What happened?" Janesha's voice sounded tinny in her ears. Taylor looked around to see the celestial girl standing alongside the SUV, with Cloudstrike standing off the road out of the way behind her.

"I'm fine," she said, enunciating carefully. Crawling out of the SUV, she clambered to her feet, still feeling a little unsteady. "Coil's dead."

" _Really?_ " Janesha looked a little disappointed. "I mean, I get it you had dibs, but you could've given me a chance to go through his memories." She tilted her head, taking in Taylor's current state of disarray. "What the hell did you do to him, anyway? Punch his head off?"

 _I can_ ** _do_** _that?_ was Taylor's first thought, but it was quickly followed by a determined headshake. "Wasn't me." Taylor went around the car until she could lean over and examine the driver's side of the windshield. There was a large starred hole in it. "I thought at first that he tried to shoot me and it bounced back and killed him, but whatever hit him in the head did a lot more damage than that. I'm thinking a sniper rifle or some kind of Tinkertech."

Janesha frowned. "Or maybe he was on the outs with his god, so Scion just disintegrated his head. Gods can get pretty unforgiving when their chosen ones fail them. The retirement plans leave a lot to be desired." She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm even concerned about that sort of thing right now."

"I'm not an expert on how gods do things, but I'm pretty sure that Scion wouldn't need to leave a bullet hole in order to disintegrate Coil's head." Taylor shook her own head in bemusement. That wasn't a sentence she'd ever thought she would say. "I'd say someone sniped him." She raised her head and shaded her eyes, then pointed. "Off in that direction, somewhere." There were some tall buildings, but the tallest looked more than half a mile away.

"Realms _damn_ it." Janesha shook her head, then looked around. "Who would've sniped him? And where's Scion got to? He should be here to deal with this shit. What sort of a stupid fucking kind of lame-ass god does he think he is?"

"I'm not even going to try to guess at that one," Taylor decided. "Next problem: there's a dead man in that car with most of his head spread around the _inside_ of said car, I'm covered in his blood, and the cops are probably on the way." She tilted her head as the sound of sirens became audible to her. "Scratch that. _Definitely_ on the way."

"Where's the problem?" Janesha shrugged. "We just leave."

Taylor sighed. "Leaving the scene of a crime, especially a murder, is a crime in and of itself. I'm sure you can make certain nothing gets to me, but it'll be tedious and annoying. Besides, I'm pretty sure I left fingerprints basically everywhere, including on the door I ripped off."

"Your dad was pretty adamant about not letting it get known that you've been enhanced," Janesha reminded her diffidently. "Me, I can't see the problem. You and your dad are effectively capes anyway. What are they gonna do, point guns at you?"

Closing her eyes, Taylor massaged her forehead with fingers and thumb. "Not helping." She took a deep breath and looked at Janesha. "Can you change my clothing into a basic costume and mask? Make it so the blood's soaked into that rather than what I'm wearing." A plan was building itself in her head, but she had several steps to take before it would be complete.

"Sure." Janesha shrugged. "Any particular colour scheme you want?"

"Black and gold, I guess." Taylor considered that for a moment. "Make it look at least sort of heroic."

"Sure, but I'm not giving you Mystal's crest." Janesha gave her a serious look. "If my family ever heard I gave a mortal that crest without you actually being a chosen one, the phrase 'Hell to pay' would be literal."

Taylor briefly considered the stories Janesha had told her about the ruling family of Mystal. Not one of them sounded like anyone she wanted to even risk getting vaguely on the wrong side of. Especially when divine displeasure meant they might obliterate whole _galaxies_ to ensure the impudent mortals in question never pulled that shit again. "Yeah, nope. I'm good with that."

By the time the police arrived, sirens blaring and lights flashing, Taylor was wearing a brand-new costume; though from the minor damage and bloodstains, it looked like it had gone through the wringer, along with its owner. Gold-tinted goggles gave her eyes a slightly bug-like air, and the black bodysuit—form-fitting without being skin-tight—had a golden bug outline on the front. A gold-coloured compartment behind her shoulders had detail on it that made it look like wing casings.

"Police!" called out one officer as they took cover behind their cars. "Hands behind your heads and down on the ground!"

"We're the _good_ guys!" Taylor shouted back. "There's a dead guy in there, but we didn't do it! We wanted to take him alive for questioning, but someone else took him out first!"

There was a pause, then the cop called out again. "Is that why you're covered in blood? Are you hurt?"

"No," Janesha answered for her. "We're fine." She turned to Taylor. "Did you end up getting those phones Armsmaster wanted us to get yesterday afternoon?"

Taylor shook her head.

"Shit." She fished out the card Armsmaster had given her and flashed it at the nearest police officer. "Here. Make yourself useful and call Armsmaster on his personal mobile, and let him know you've got Lady Janesha of Mystal in your crosshairs." With a wry snicker, she glanced back at Taylor and said, "How much do you want to bet he's going to figure out a way to be here in seconds, rather than minutes to beat any other cape?" as the cop came forward and gingerly took the card. He then retreated to his squad car.

"No bet," Taylor smirked. She held her hands out to her sides and said in a louder voice for the police, "I'm not hurt. I was in the car, trying to take him into custody, and his head basically exploded."

"Who is he, and why were you trying to take him into custody? And for that matter, who are _you_?" asked the officer who had first given the order for them to get on the ground.

"The dead man is Coil," Janesha replied bluntly. "I'm sure you've heard of him. I'm pretty sure that answers the second question." She gestured at Taylor. "And this is Khepri. We go back a ways."

Once it became clear that Taylor's debut as a cape was essentially inevitable, they'd spent half an hour in her imagination going over designs and names, before they settled on that one. The scarab motif was definitely in keeping with her bug powers, while the colour scheme made it easier for people to accept that they had a connection somewhere. Taylor had queried her use of the name of a god Janesha knew, but the celestial teen had snorted with amusement and waved her concerns away.

"I've met him a few times, and he's pretty chill as gods go," she said. "You don't see Thor personally showing up and smacking down those guys who wrote him into a comic book, right? Just so long as you don't, you know, start making the name look _bad_ , he wouldn't care even if he knew. If anything, he'd probably find it cool that you're putting his name out there."

It wasn't even really a lie that Janesha and Taylor went back 'a ways'. As Janesha had pointed out, this was the absolute longest she'd ever associated with a mortal without using said mortal for her own purposes then discarding them.

The announcement that the corpse in the vehicle belonged to a supervillain changed things up _hard._ The cops started putting up a perimeter, and didn't even seem to consider revisiting the idea of taking Taylor or Janesha into custody.

Armsmaster showed up next, approximately one minute and thirty seconds after Janesha's announcement regarding Coil. Taylor didn't even want to think about how many traffic laws he'd nominally broken to get there in that interval. She doubted that he could break the sound barrier on that bike (at least, without direct assistance from a celestial) but he was definitely capable of covering a lot of ground very quickly.

Bringing the motorcycle to a screeching sideways halt, he stepped off it and continued toward the perimeter. The police—wisely, as it turned out—stepped aside and allowed him through the perimeter without so much as a murmur. He strode up to where Janesha and Taylor stood, affording the former a nod of greeting, then turning his helmet toward Taylor.

"You're Khepri," he stated flatly.

"That's me," Taylor agreed.

"What's your connection to Janesha of Mystal?"

"Hey," interceded Janesha. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here."

"My apologies," he said at once. "Lady Janesha, do you vouch for Khepri?"

Janesha smirked and nodded. "I do. You should trust her word like you do mine."

"I'll take that under advisement." He seemed to divide his attention between them. "So, just to clarify, you're saying Coil's in that car, and he's dead."

"If he's not," Taylor observed dryly, "he's doing a really good impression of a corpse. Someone blew his head clean off." She indicated the now-dried bloodstains on her costume. "This is all him."

Armsmaster looked her up and down, but she got the impression that he was scanning and measuring the bloodstains, rather than looking at her as a person. All the same, she was suddenly glad she'd made sure the costume wasn't skin-tight. Janesha may have made improvements to her body, but there were some things that should not happen.

"I see," he said. "If you will wait here for a moment?"

Without actually giving them time to answer, he moved around to the driver's side of the car and crouched down to look inside. Taylor watched as he reached in through the open window, and teased something out of the dead man's pocket with surprising delicacy, given the fact that he was wearing powered gauntlets.

"Are you supposed to even be doing that?" she asked dubiously. "I mean, forensics …"

"I'm recording the information in real time for later examination, Khepri," he replied. "It's already obvious to me that he's dead, as you informed me, and based on the sizeable hole that's been punched out the back door, my guess is the cause of death was a high-powered rifle round that came in through the windshield before spraying the contents of his head around inside the car." He paused. "You were in the car at the time?"

"Yes," she said, restraining the urge to snap at him. It seemed a remarkably insensitive way of referring to the death of a human being, even such an unpleasant one as Coil. "There'll be a pistol in there, somewhere. I tried to grab it off him and he shot me with it, just about the same time as he got his head … removed."

That got his attention. His helmet came around and he focused on her. "Are you wounded? Do you require paramedics?"

Without saying a word, Taylor bent down and picked up a sizeable rock from the gutter. After showing it to Armsmaster, she crushed it into powder and allowed it to fall to the ground, all without saying a word. Her dad had told her how effective a display that had been when Cloudstrike did it to him at their first meeting.

"I see." He stood up and opened the wallet he had obtained from Coil's body. "Let's see now ... " Carefully, he took out a laminated card. "No. this has to be a mistake."

"What?" Janesha jerked her chin up. "Going after this asshole was no mistake. Not our fault he got his head splattered."

Taylor shot her a dirty look. It seemed her way of referring to violent death wasn't much better than his.

"I'm sorry, Lady Janesha, but this information is classified." Armsmaster turned away, and appeared to be subvocalizing inside his helmet.

Turning to Janesha, Taylor spread her hands. "What do you think _that_ means?"

Abruptly, the sounds around them quieted. Taylor recognised the signs of a noise damper. Janesha smirked. "I could find out, petal, but that would mean going into his mind. Your call."

Taylor grimaced. She hated the idea of invading his privacy, but Coil _had_ tried to kill her. _If anyone deserves to know what's going on, I do._ "Okay, but just this once. And nothing private to him alone."

Janesha rolled her eyes. "You mortals are _so_ squeamish." She didn't appear to do anything, but Armsmaster's voice began to sound in the silence that surrounded them.

 _"Director, there's something you should know."_

 ** _"It's always something I should know, and it's always something I didn't want to know."_** Director Emily Piggot let out a gusty sigh. **_"Fine. My phone's currently ringing off the hook about that damn explosion, but I can give you a few minutes. What is it?"_**

 _"I was en route to the site of the explosion myself when I was diverted to a reported fatality on the southbound highway. I'm at the scene now. The victim was identified as Coil by Lady Janesha of Mystal, but his driver's license IDs him as one Thomas Calvert. And he has a PRT identity card."_

There was a pause on the line, so long that Taylor thought Janesha had ceased listening in. Then Piggot spoke again.

 ** _"I know Commander Calvert. You're saying he's Coil? Or_** **was** ** _Coil? And do you think there's some connection between this and the explosion?"_**

 _"I haven't gotten enough data to even begin to form a hypothesis about that, but I tend to believe Lady Janesha when she says Calvert was Coil. As we both know, supervillains have often been associated with hidden bases and high explosives. One more thing: he was sniped with a heavy calibre rifle, through the windshield, from at least half a mile away, while in civilian clothing, and while Lady Janesha and her associate were trying to apprehend him."_

 ** _"So some third party definitely wanted him dead. Do you have anything more? Such as what led them to believe he was Coil, or who the third party might be?"_**

 _"I have yet to form any theories in that regard, ma'am. I just thought I'd bring you up to speed before you were blindsided by it from another source."_

 ** _"Thank you. I think. Good work. I await your final report."_**

The call ended with a definitive click, and Taylor stared at Janesha. "What the hell? Coil was working for the PRT? What does that even mean?"

Janesha swore long and loud before levelling her angry gaze at her friend. "It means that my own realm-damned boon with Armsmaster would've kicked my ass, even if we'd taken him alive."

Taylor frowned. "I don't get it. You had a boon with Armsmaster?"

"Yeah, it was after the Shadow Stalker thing. From his side, it was an unspecified boon. From mine, it was very specific. I agreed to turn over any PRT affiliated criminals to him in exchange for whatever the fuck I wanted from him. I didn't think I'd be the one to freakin' regret it!" She glared at the SUV, and by extension at the corpse within. "Why can't these idiots stay on the side they're _supposed_ to be on?"

There was no way Taylor could answer that one. "So now we're at a dead end. Where do we go from here?"

Janesha shrugged irritably. "Not sure. Gonna have to find some other way to bait that asshole out, now. And when I do, I'm gonna make him _pay_ for jerking me all over the landscape."

Just going by the look on Janesha's face, Taylor felt a sudden surge of pity for Scion.

* * *

End of Part Fifteen


	17. Chapter 16

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Sixteen: Playing Chicken

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and co-written with Karen Buckeridge, author of_ ** _Ties That Bind_** _and the (soon to be published) sequel_ ** _The Long Way Home_** _.]_

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

Something occurred to Taylor. "Wait a second. What if Coil wasn't the Chosen one of Scion after all?"

Janesha paused and twisted her head towards her friend, arching an eyebrow in a blend of query and ridicule. "What?"

Being put on the spot like this, Taylor wasn't as confident as she'd been two seconds earlier. Nevertheless, she pushed on. "Well, what if there was someone _else_ who was the Chosen one, but Coil was that person's protege?" Taylor waved one hand over the top of the other. "Our history is littered with religious zealots who didn't actually answer to the priest in charge, but a secretive sub-group of priests. What if it's that sub-group who decided Coil was too much of a liability, and didn't want their bosses finding out about it? So that person pops in, takes out Coil, and Scion is completely oblivious to everything?" For Taylor, that made more sense. She'd spent her whole life believing Scion was the good guy, and it was really hard to accept he could be responsible for all the woes of the world, even if they had come after Scion first appeared.

"I guess it's possible." Janesha tapped her finger on her lips. "And if the lower priest prayed directly to Scion and Scion didn't ask questions because he's an idiot, I suppose I could see Scion crafting a minor 'miracle' that explains how that headless prick got out of my stink-trap."

"What if the priest did it himself without praying to Scion in the first place?"

Janesha snorted in an unflattering way. "Petal, are you seriously suggesting that any amount of mortal influence is going to undo shifting done by me?" She shook her head. "It doesn't work that way. We're top tier, and only one of our own could undo what we do. Certainly nothing mortal."

Taylor knew when to quit. Janesha had a hard-on for Scion's hide, and nothing this side of Hell was going to deter her from it. "Fair point." She shaded her eyes and stared in the direction the shot had come from. "Maybe if we looked at where the sniper fired from, we could work out who the actual Chosen one is."

"Hm. _Did_ you see where the shot came from?" asked Janesha looking around and taking in the area around them. "Because I didn't."

"Give me a second." Taylor went back through the snapshots her brain had taken over the last fifteen minutes. There was one where she was in midair over Coil's vehicle, then one where she landed. Tearing the door off the car. Swinging inside. Grabbing for the gun … "Wait."

"Got something?" Janesha perked up.

"I think so." Taylor isolated that snapshot and focused on the bit where she'd seen a flash from the top of a building out of the corner of her eye. Zooming in, she identified the building and pointed at it. "That one, right there. Second tall one, to the left."

Janesha turned in that direction, then with a wide grin she slapped her friend in the shoulder. "Nice."

"What's nice?" Armsmaster asked, having seen the two conferring to one side and not taking his attention far from the pair. Once Taylor had pointed, she guessed he'd figured out what they were doing and wanted in on it.

"Just triangulating where the sniper came from," Taylor answered. It still blew her mind that she was talking so casually to Armsmaster of all people like he was one of her friends at school. "Pretty sure I've got a bead on it."

"So, we're just going to head over there and see what we can find on the sniper," Janesha ended.

"Uh … no, you're not," Armsmaster stated, his voice brimming with authority.

Janesha stilled and her head swiveled ever so coldly towards him. "What?" The word may have technically had a question attached to it, but the iciness that coated it possessed more of a 'You might want to reword that while you still can' vibe to it.

Armsmaster pulled himself up to his full height, towering over the girls. "I can't allow you to mess with a crime scene, Janesha, even if it's with the best of intentions. There's a process – a chain of evidence that must be adhered to, so that when we catch the murderer, the charges will stick. If you touch anything before us, the whole case could be thrown out for tampering."

Taylor knew exactly how much (precisely none) Janesha cared for due process, and it was written all over her indignant face. She also knew if she didn't get in the middle of this immediately, Janesha would take matters into her own hands. "What if we promise not to touch a thing?" she asked, sliding across in front of Janesha, for Armsmaster was so focused on the Mystallian he'd probably forgotten Khepri was even there. Putting her in his direct line of sight forced him to acknowledge her. "We can even stay off the roof, so there won't be any contamination of evidence."

Armsmaster's jaw ground from side to side and Taylor realised she was losing control of the situation.

That was when an idea came to her. "How good is the recording device in your helmet?"

That had Armsmaster's head snapping towards her. "Excuse me?" he asked, in much the same way Janesha had of him.

Taylor held up her hand and waved away his temper, finding it a little disturbing. "I don't mean exactly. That's probably classified. But are you able to zoom in and watch what we do if we fly over the roof of that building? If we stay within your line of sight, and you keep watching us, you can see we won't be touching anything."

Armsmaster looked back at Janesha. "Do I have your word you won't attempt to land?"

"Sure," Janesha replied, flippantly.

"Janesha," Armsmaster growled, and Taylor could practically feel his eyebrows merging into an angry line under that helmet.

"I give you my word I won't touch the roof until you get there," the Mystallian replied. "Happy?"

"Not particularly," Armsmaster admitted. "But I'll take you at your word. And anything you find; you come back here and tell me about it."

Janesha laughed as if he'd gone insane and shook her head. "That wasn't part of the deal. You figure your stuff out, and we'll do the same. I've got a few questions I want to ask the prick that pulled the trigger too, you know." And with that, she whirled on her heel and headed for Cloudstrike, taking up the mystallion's bridle. "Coming, Khepri?"

Taylor wasn't about to be left behind. "Later, Armsmaster!" she said with a wave, rushing over to join Janesha.

Seconds later, the pair were airborne and circling over the building in question. "Remember, we have to stay in line of sight of Armsmaster, and the assassination took place on this side of the roof, so we shouldn't have any hassle doing that," Taylor shouted over the wind.

As they hovered over the west side of the building, Taylor couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. No tripods, no shooting mat, not even an expended cartridge case gleaming in the sunlight. It didn't look like a crime scene at all. The only thing she was sure of was that the flash had come from this point, and that an instant later Coil's head had ceased to be a single contiguous item.

Glancing at Janesha, she saw that her friend was tilting her head slightly, as if she could hear something just outside the normal audible range. Taylor listened carefully but heard nothing. "Have you got something?" she asked.

"Not a damned thing. I can't believe we've hit another fucking dead-end!"

That was when another idea came to Taylor. A ludicrously ridiculous idea, that just wouldn't go away now that it had made itself known. "Janesha, any chance you can land us on that other rooftop over there. I want to run something past you that sounds crazy, and my crazy benchmark has been moved to almost non-existent."

Janesha looked over her shoulder with a strange expression on her face. "Sure," she said, and brought Cloudstrike in for a landing on a building three away from the crime scene, just to keep Armsmaster happy. Taylor dropped to the ground and waited for Janesha to join her. "So, what's on your mind?" the celestial girl asked.

Taylor held up both fingers in a 'wait' motion. "Hear me out," she insisted. "Scion's been here for about thirty years, right?"

"Which one of lives here, to be answering that question?" Janesha mused.

"Okay, fine. He's been here for thirty years. That wasn't meant to be a question. The questioning part is, how readily do your kind … you know … have kids?"

That had Janesha taking half a step backwards. "You think he punched his V-card here?" she asked, incredulously. "With a mortal?"

Taylor was sure she was missing something. "Firstly, ewww. And secondly, no! Geez, why would you even say such a thing?"

"Because that's how it works with us," she answered. "The first time we sleep around, the odds of having a kid are really high. After that, it's maybe one every other hundred billion years. If that." She shrugged. "Unless having kids is part of an establishment field – in which case all bets are off."

It was hard enough for Taylor to picture Scion having sex as it was, without picturing him doing so as a virgin. "What if he _does_ have a kid here, hypothetically speaking? A hybrid, I think you called them. How would that fit into your theory?"

Janesha grimaced. "Too fucking well," she admitted, rubbing the back of her gloved hand against her mouth. "If Scion had a hybrid, he'd be in all sorts of trouble with the known realms and the kid would be as good as dead. Most celests value their own hides over their hybrid kids which explains why Scion took off as soon as he saw me. He knew the game was up."

"And if that's the case, what if the hybrid pulled the trigger, because he or she hasn't figured out what it means to possess divinity yet?"

"That does make a twisted sort of sense," Janesha admitted. "But that still doesn't explain the need for a gun. Hybrids are like all celestials, and we're attuned to the realm we're born in. I'm still attuned to Mystal. If he or she was born here, their will alone commands the realm and they could've simply said to reality, "Coil doesn't exist anymore," and the mortal ceases to exist."

"Could a hybrid have a Chosen one?" asked Taylor. "Or do you have to be established for that to happen?"

"Hybrids can have worshippers just like any other celestial, but that by definition makes them established. The thing is, mortals give us power and we wield it. Hybrids who believe in themselves establish themselves out to fifteen feet. They literally power themselves. Anywhere. Can you not see how dangerous that is?"

 _Not really,_ but Taylor didn't want to be the one to say that. "So, if this working theory is right, we're not chasing one celestial, but two."

"And hybrids are usually smart enough to stay on the down-low. In my cousin's realm, they've literally been doing it for _centuries_ , with nobody there being any the wiser. Coil's death makes a lot more sense that way, instead of him being the protege of an actual Chosen one. And to be honest, some gods have a habit of screwing their worshippers. Sort of like with mortal rock bands and their groupies." She rolled her eyes. "Lord Zeus does it almost on a daily basis, the dirty bastard. Pisses Lady Hera off no end."

"I have no doubt." Taylor figured at some point she'd get used to hearing gods from myth and legend referred to as casually as someone's next-door neighbor, but it would take a little time yet. "So, are we going home now?" She worded the question casually. While she was okay with going home, she'd be equally happy to accompany them for a ride out across the cosmos, courtesy of Cloudstrike and Janesha telling mere mortal physics to go cry in the corner.

"No." Janesha turned her face skyward, but instead of giving Cloudstrike her head, she reformed her eyes so that they spread right across her face in a series of insectoid prisms. "Since Scion doesn't want to play ball, and whoever shot Coil's also keeping their head down, I might as well take all my frustrations out on a certain name-stealing bitch that's too stupid to know when to hide."

Taylor blinked, connecting the dots very rapidly indeed. "What? You're going after the _Simurgh_?"

"Hell yeah. I need to punch something, like yesterday, and everything else on this world is too fucking fragile for an all-out celestial smack-down." Janesha spoke absently as she scanned the skies. "I'll understand if you want to sit this one out, petal. It's going to get ugly."

"Why? Can't you just mind-whammy it like you do everything else?"

Janesha's right eyebrow shot toward her hairline. "Did you not hear what I just said? I need to punch something, and not just once, but repeatedly. Preferably something that will at least give me a bit of a challenge to make winning that smack-down more satisfying. If I wanted to punch inanimate objects, I'd go and punch a few of Saturn's satellites into a different orbit, but that won't help."

"So, you want to be hit a few times."

"I need a fight," the celestial agreed. She smacked her loose fist into the palm of her other hand. "I need to vent."

No way. No way in hell was Taylor missing this. "Can you keep me safe from her scream?"

"Sure," Janesha replied. "You're tethered to me, petal. If her scream is some sort of bending, it'll bounce straight off you."

"Good. Then I'm coming with you." Taylor fought down a chill at the idea of coming face to face with one of the most viscerally terrifying creatures in the world. "You won't face her alone."

Janesha patted the shoulder of the mystallion standing beside them. "If I even thought about leaving this overgrown pain-in-the-ass behind, I'd have a fight on my hands that'd be a whole different calibre of conflict," she promised, ruffling Cloudstrike's mane playfully. Cloudstrike lifted her head and whinnied affirmatively.

Which brought up another point for Taylor. "Is Cloudstrike immune to mind bending?"

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

Janesha paused, knowing Taylor had pinpointed a problem Janesha hadn't thought of. Mystallions weren't immune to bending any more than anything else, but when they ever had to go into battle, the mystallions were all issued with seclusion rings built into their bridles. Gladiator, grandmother Armina's mystallion, never took his off. The big problem with that obvious solution, she didn't have any seclusion rings with her, and her vacation would be over the second she tried to reach her magical cousin for one of the specialized constructs.

Could she tether herself to Cloudstrike like she had Taylor? Sure, if she wanted to be bitten by her winged friend for the rest of eternity. Mystallions were as proud as their riders, and any attempt to modify them was met with the most aggressive resistance imaginable. Even those like Cloudstrike, who had shifters as their riders, had made that point very clear very early in their partnership.

 _So how do I get around this?_ When nothing came to her, she did what all benders did. She turned her thoughts inward and brought up an armor-clad simulacrum of the best warrior their pantheon had to offer. Her great grandmother, Armina. Before this version of her grandmother could explode over her recent activities, Janesha modified the image so that Armina both knew of her choices and, more importantly, was fine with it. "Okay, so what do I do now?" she asked, cutting right to the chase, Mystal style. "I don't want her getting hurt, but I don't want to leave her behind either."

"If you want a fight, you only need to come home," her grandmother growled, clenching one armored hand into a tight fist while the other rested on her hip. "You're already in more trouble than you can possibly handle."

Janesha knew that, but it wasn't the point. "I want this fight," she insisted. "I want one I have more than a hope of winning."

Armina folded her arms. "Trust me, you have no hope of winning against what's coming your way when you get home, young lady."

Janesha looked off to the side and rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. "Yeah, well … I can win this one." She looked back at her grandmother. "I mean, I could grow wings and go after this fake bitch myself, but Cloudstrike will be pissed if I left her behind. Since I don't have access to seclusion rings, how do I keep her safe?"

"You could drug her."

True, but not what she was after. "I want her with me. She needs to vent as much as I do."

"Does this Simurgh know you're coming?"

Janesha shrugged. "The mortals think she has some level of precognition, but Cloudstrike and I caught her by surprise when we flew past her a couple of days ago."

Her grandmother nodded thoughtfully. "So, it's a mortal-based precog."

Janesha nodded. "That's my guess."

"If you were able to make line of sight on this Simurgh before she saw you coming, you could apply a mental command for her not to use bending."

Janesha had no doubt that if the real Armina were here instead of this imaginary version, there would be war strategies so intricate that it would take a master strategist a decade to process what she worked out in a heartbeat. But as this was just a rehash of her own knowledge applied to her grandmother's point of view, she was limited to the basics.

"Is this Simurgh capable of physical combat?"

The question was too simple, even for an imaginary Armina. The very fact that she was itching for a fight made the answer obvious. Which meant she was missing something basic. Almost too hesitant to answer, Janesha hunched one shoulder and murmured, "Maybe."

In the next second, her ears were ringing from the slap Armina had delivered to the back of her head. It was gentle, or as gentle as her great-grandmother ever did, though the metal gauntlet didn't help with softening the impact. "You're riding an unprotected mystallion into a known celestial battle?" Her voice crackled with the level of command that was used to maneuver hundreds of billions of troops on any given battlefield, and Janesha knew she'd screwed up. Thankfully, this was all in her mind, so she had time to fix it. "Do you think Gladiator is constantly armored for war because it's a fucking fashion statement?"

"I'll fix it," she insisted. "I'll armor her up."

"See that you do," Armina responded. As if to remind her of the correct look for a mystallion going to war, Armina created an image of Gladiator. "Miss nothing," she said, pointing at the spiked plate mail battle armor. Every part of it is relevant, if only to put the fear of Mystal into your enemy."

Janesha nodded, looking over every inch of black armor. Each piece was intricately crafted, made to work with the rest in a way that protected the mystallion it was fitted on to, without hampering their movements. Spikes protruded from the chanfron, the front facing shin guards above the hooves and rear facing hind legs. The centre of peytral plate was the all too familiar sigil of the pantheon. Even the reins were a heavy chain, where the sides of every link were honed into a blade edge. This wasn't for Armina's use. Releasing the reins gave the war-mystallion the opportunity to control the unusual flail from the bit between his teeth. The leading edges of his wings were equally armored with razor-sharp bands of black Mystallian steel, designed to carve through the enemy.

Janesha wasn't sure if Cloudstrike was up for this level of equipment, but she figured her friend would adapt quickly enough. As annoyed as she might have found the added weight, it'd be nothing compared to when Armina went through her memories and saw the image of herself telling Janesha to miss no aspect of the armor, only to have Janesha deliberately omit a few pieces anyway. Cloudstrike would just have to deal with it or stay behind.

"Thanks, Gran."

Janesha had hoped to wrap this up before the lectures began, but even this imaginary version of her grandmother had to get a barb in. "You know I am going to kick your ass through your teeth so many times not even your shifting is going to be able to remember which end does what," the Mystallian goddess of War stated with a frown, as both hands returned to her hips.

"Love you too, Gran. Bye!" And with that, the image winked out of existence. Janesha let out a heavy breath, taking a moment to wish how much she'd love to be able to do that to the real one when the time came. But she was already in so deep, there was nothing else for it but to get what she wanted out of the situation first.

With another deep, revitalizing breath, she turned away from her imagination and returned to the physical realm. _Okay, then. Time to go to war._

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

" … I mean, she probably is and all," Taylor continued.

"No, she isn't, but I have a plan." Janesha climbed back on to Cloudstrike and held her hand out for Taylor. "Are you coming?"

"Hell, yeah," Taylor slid her hand into Janesha's, and with a combination of haul and jump, she was settled in the second saddle behind her friend.

"Here we go, then. First things first. We need mass." She urged Cloudstrike into the air and took her out towards the ocean. "Get ready to get wet, old friend," Janesha said, and suddenly, all three were diving into the saltwater.

They were only underwater for a few seconds before they broke the surface and were airborne once more. Taylor coughed and wiped the saltwater from her goggles. When her vision cleared, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "What happened to Cloudstrike?" she demanded, for even where she sat, it was as if he had undergone some level of transformation. He no longer looked like the adorable winged horse that Taylor and every other teenaged girl in the world would've given their eye-teeth for. Spiky, black plate mail armor covered almost every inch of her except the feathers of her wings. Even then, the wings were interlaced with dark, flexible strips of metal to allow full maneuverability in flight. They looked kind of razor-sharp, too.

"Wow. Damn. I did not expect that," she admitted. "How strong is that armor?"

"Mystallian steel," Janesha crowed with pride. The answer was given in the same way someone might say _the sky is blue._ It was an indisputable fact. "Nothing that fake-angel wannabe will be able to get through, that's for sure."

"Okay, you've covered your bases." Taylor braced herself, both physically and mentally. "Let's go kick the crap out of the Simurgh."

" _That's_ the spirit." Janesha laughed out loud. "I think it's a good thing you and your dad are just mortals. If you were full-blooded celestials, you'd be giving the rest of us a real run for our money." She shook out the reins. "Hey- _yah_! Let's go hunting, girl!"

That had apparently been what the mystallion had been waiting for. Raising her wings, she brought them down with a thunderclap that echoed across the ocean. Before the sound had a chance to die down, they were already in the upper atmosphere.

As the Earth rolled under them, Taylor took a moment to think about what they were doing. "What's to stop her from pre-emptively attacking us, before you tell her not to hurt Cloudstrike?"

"Because she doesn't see me coming." Janesha shot a grin over her shoulder at Taylor. "I went back over my memory of the time we buzzed her, and she was shocked and stunned that we'd gotten that close to her. She's supposed to be able to see stuff before it happens. Either she doesn't see me or she doesn't register me as a threat. That's going to be her first big mistake." Raising her hand, she pointed. "Aaaand … there she is. Sorted. Whatever we do from here in, it's physical only."

Taylor shaded her eyes, peering into the distance, but even with the improved eyesight Janesha had given her, she could see nothing. "Where is she?"

"Just inside the atmosphere," Janesha answered, pointing both to the front and the left of where they flew. As Cloudstrike banked into the turn, Taylor finally made out the tiny white dot on the horizon, brightly illuminated by the sun. They closed with the third Endbringer at frankly horrifying speeds, the Simurgh went from the far distance to _right there_ in just a few seconds. At that moment, she seemed to be observing Belgium, though Taylor couldn't see the expression on her face.

On the first pass, Cloudstrike didn't even slow down; one armour-clad wingtip, extended outward, clipped the until-then oblivious Endbringer. Confirming Taylor's impression of exactly how sharp the leading edge of the armour was, it neatly snipped a minor wing free to begin its long spiral toward Earth. Taylor got a fleeting impression—captured forever by her photographic memory—of widening grey eyes and a shocked expression, before Cloudstrike pulled into a tight loop. "Hey, bitch!" Janesha howled in delight. "I'm baaaaaack!"

In less time than it took Taylor to even _think_ about it, they'd completed the loop, pulling more Gs than Taylor wanted to contemplate as the Earth spun crazily overhead, and were flashing back into the attack. This time, Janesha got up with her feet on the saddle. "Take the reins!" she called out, handing the chain straps back to Taylor.

"Wait, _what_?" Taylor clutched at the reins, thankful for the armor that protected her from the bladed edges she could see gleaming in the bright light. Never in ten billion years had she thought _she_ might ever be holding the reins of such a magnificent creature. "What are you _doing_?"

"What does it _look_ like I'm doing?" Crouching on the saddle with her cape fluttering free, Janesha poised herself with her eyes fixed on the Simurgh, who did not seem at all thrilled with the situation. "I'm going old -school on this bitch."

 _Holy shit, she's going hand to hand with the Simurgh!_ Taylor had seen Janesha literally walk on water and juggle container ships, but that was nothing compared to _this_. And then there was no more time to think about it; Cloudstrike swept past the Simurgh, who dodged the slashing wingtip, but did not manage to evade Janesha herself. With a wild yell of "Mystal!", the celestial girl launched herself from the saddle, arms outstretched, on a collision course with the Endbringer.

As Taylor tugged gently on the reins to pull Cloudstrike back around toward the fight, she had her head craned over her shoulder to watch, so she saw the collision in all its glory. She had no idea how fast they'd been travelling when Janesha made her attack, but when the impact occurred, it drove the Simurgh sideways in a cloud of white feathers.

Looking even more surprised and terrified than before, the Endbringer began to lash out at her assailant with both hands and all the wings she could bring to bear. Almost immediately, Taylor heard a high-pitched shrilling in the back of her head, and she began to feel a little weird.

 _Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh. fuck. It's her song. She's singing. How's it getting me when Janesha said she'd blocked it?_ It didn't matter. The bottom line was she had.

With one hand wrapped around the Simurgh's neck, Janesha reared back and smashed a headbutt into the centre of the alabaster-white face, driving the Endbringer's head back. The singing abruptly ceased. "Don't even _try_ that shit with my friends!" shouted the celestial girl, driving a sledgehammer-blow punch into the body of her chosen opponent. More feathers flew as she shattered another small wing. Taylor was a little dubious as to how she was hearing her friend in the near-vacuum of low earth orbit, but she was willing to go with 'celestial bullshit'.

As Cloudstrike circled the ongoing conflict, Taylor watched with her heart in her mouth. Janesha was good at what she did. Scratch that; she was _very_ good at what she did. But there was a fundamental difference between casually fucking Coil over and taking on an Endbringer in hand to hand combat with minimal backup. Even Alexandria didn't do this. Or perhaps she did, but it never lasted for long.

Abruptly, the Simurgh vanished from where Janesha was mauling her, and reappeared _right next_ to where Taylor sat astride Cloudstrike. She looked a little the worse for wear, and the expression on her face wasn't the usual impassive gaze she gave the world. Right now, she looked _pissed._ It didn't help that her nose was bent sideways from Janesha's headbutt.

Taylor barely had time to react as the Simurgh reached for her. Whatever the Endbringer intended; throw her at Janesha, tear her in two, or maybe teleport away with her, Taylor never found out, for Cloudstrike's reflexes were up to the situation. The mystallion snorted and swatted the Simurgh sideways with one massively armour-clad wing, then pivoted in mid-flight and unloaded a double kick with both her rear hooves. Not only did the hooves collide with the Endbringer's chest, but two large spikes on the back of her shin guards pierced her chest cavity and travelled upwards with the same blow. Cloudstrike suddenly snorted and her rear legs jerked and scissored, tearing through feathered flesh in their wake in their need to be freed. Watching this, Taylor had to conclude she wasn't used to whatever these auxiliary weapons were.

Finally she was free, and looking back, Taylor saw not only the huge gouges from the spikes, but also two perfectly formed hoofprints in the wing covering that part of her body. Janesha was still on Simurgh's upper body. "Good girl, Cloudstrike!" she crowed, then went straight back on the attack. "How many times do I have to tell you," she grunted as she took hold of another wing and braced herself, " _you don't fuck with my friends_!" The wing tore free and she tossed it aside, then slid down for what would've been a more important wing on the Endbringer's torso. The Simurgh grabbed her cape and tried to yank her away; Janesha made the cloth stretch, then grabbed the offending arm and broke it off at the shoulder _._ Looking at the arm, then at the monster she was attacking, Janesha shrugged and began to beat on the Simurgh with her own arm.

Taylor wasn't totally surprised when the Simurgh vanished once more. It seemed the Endbringer could learn; this time, she didn't try to attack Taylor. Not only that, but this time she was able to dislodge Janesha before disappearing. Her teenaged friend started to plummet.

It was nothing for Cloudstrike to get underneath her, and somehow (Taylor didn't rule out anything where her friend and the legendary creature were concerned) they both knew what the other was doing, for Janesha righted herself and Cloudstrike timed things perfectly, putting Janesha back in the saddle as if she'd fallen a few inches instead of half a football field.

"Mother-fucker!" the Mystallian swore, her head twisting in all directions for the missing creature. "Her too! This is REALLY getting fucking old!"

As her friend ranted, Taylor went back through her snapshots for any indication of which way she went. "That way, I think," she said, pointing out past Janesha's shoulder. "She looked in that direction just before she teleported."

Janesha stared at her incredulously. "Petal, I am seriously wondering why I didn't take on a mortal sidekick long before now." She twitched the reins, and Cloudstrike came around to the heading Taylor had indicated, then they blurred into forward speed. "Any celest would've been telling me how they could do it better, and probably getting in my way. You just sit back and watch and gather all the information I need. We make an _awesome_ team."

Taylor blushed a little at the praise. "I know I can't do what you can do, so I do my best." Apart from her near heart-attack when the pissed off Simurgh was right there in front of her, she found she was enjoying this immensely. And the impact of Cloudstrike's hooves (maybe not those spike things – they were a bit much) against the Endbringer had been so damn _satisfying._

 _Actually … talking about that._ She began flicking through the snapshots of the fight once more, frowning slightly. Although Janesha had by far been getting the better of it, the Endbringer was living up to the legendary durability that all three monsters were known for. The celestial girl had dealt out a tremendous amount of damage to it, but it didn't seem to be in any way impaired. Except, of course, for the fact that it was now lacking an arm. _How can we actually_ ** _beat_** _it?_

" _There_ you are, you bitch! Cloudstrike, _hyah_!" At Janesha's shout, Taylor felt the mystallion quicken her pace, catching up with the fleeing Simurgh. Trailing the odd feather, the Endbringer veered wildly from one side to the other, apparently trying to throw off pursuit. Cloudstrike flicked her pinions out and cut the corners smoothly, coming closer to the prey with every wingbeat.

"Isn't the Simurgh supposed to be a telekinetic as well?" asked Taylor, still flicking through images. There was something there, if she could just pin it down …

"That's physical, and I trump it all day long," Janesha shouted over her shoulder. "Cloudstrike's armor has shielding for that shit, and you're still connected to me." Gathering her feet under her on the saddle and brandishing the snapped-off arm, she grinned tightly back at Taylor. "Time to go wreck her day, again."

This time, the Simurgh was watching them, or at least facing them, as she flew backward at a rate that should have been frankly impossible under any version of normal physics. Of course, Taylor was fully aware that 'normal physics' was not a phrase that applied to capes in general, much less Endbringers. And of course, Janesha routinely ignored what she called 'mortal physics' for shits and giggles on an hourly basis. Of everyone involved in this particular battle, Taylor was the one most beholden to the natural laws of Earth Bet, and even then, she got the impression she was merely waving to them across the room while they sulked in the corner.

The Simurgh's watchfulness did her no good at all when Janesha impacted her again, hard. Taylor fancied she could feel the crunching thud from where she sat astride Cloudstrike's secondary saddle. Still using the snapped-off arm as a weapon, Janesha set about beating the living shit out of the Endbringer once more. Yet more feathers flew as Janesha used the oddly-placed wings as grab-holds to swing around from one side of her oversized opponent to the other, before ripping them free altogether. The Simurgh tried her best to pin Janesha down, but she couldn't seem to react fast enough. All the while, Janesha was punching and kicking her, literally knocking chunks away from her mass.

The breaking point for the Endbringer seemed to come when Janesha finally managed to brace herself with her legs and swing a truly effective punch. Her fist hit the Simurgh on the point of the jaw and sheared off not only the jaw but the front half of the Simurgh's head, to drift away into space. For a third time, the Endbringer vanished from her grip. Taylor checked all around to ensure this wasn't a last-minute ambush, but the Simurgh was nowhere in sight. Repeating the earlier move, Janesha was once again in the saddle.

"Which way'd she go now?" Janesha asked, not even bothering with looking for herself.

"Give me a second." Taylor went into her store of snapshots. Just before Janesha had hit the Simurgh with that impressive uppercut, the Endbringer hadn't been staring in any particular direction. She went back through the series, capturing a number of shots of the Simurgh's face, none of which looked in the least bit happy. Nothing stood out, so she worked forward, to the point where Janesha had hit the monster and taken her face off, then on a hunch kept going.

For a moment she thought there was nothing to be seen. But then, right at the top of her vision range, she saw a tiny star that hadn't been in the previous snapshot. She went on to the next one. The star wasn't there … but there was another, almost invisible. She turned and looked up. About halfway to the zenith, directly in line with the direction of the fake 'stars' … was the Moon. She pointed. "There."

Janesha raised her eyebrows. "There? The Moon? Are you sure?"

Taylor nodded. "When she first appeared, she came around from the far side of the Moon. Maybe she's gone back there. It's the closest thing she's got to a hiding place, I guess."

"With you at my back, petal, that bitch ain't got nowhere to hide." Janesha pulled a stimulation wave, renewing her battered uniform and appearance until they were pristine once more. "Oh, in case you were wondering, her scream isn't bending based. It's actually a microscopic alteration of your brain with her TK. Or at least, it was, until I reinforced my ownership of you and told that cow what she could go and do with herself."

"Wait—your _ownership_ of me?" Taylor really didn't like the sound of that.

Janesha waved the matter aside. "Anyone who has to go after you, has to get through me first. I didn't mean _ownership_ ownership. More as a 'this human is mine, and I will fuck you up If you touch what's mine'."

Taylor wasn't sure how that was supposed to be any better. "I don't like the idea of being owned by anyone."

"Protected by me, then. How's that?"

With a slow scratch to the back of her head, Taylor decided she could live with that compromise—barely. "Don't ever say you own me again, Janesha. I don't care if you really do, just don't ever say it again. I mean ever, ever." She put her hand on her friend's shoulder and tugged, forcing Janesha to look back at her. "It'll be the immediate end of our friendship if you do." Janesha raised a flared hand which Taylor took as a Mystallian apology. "So, are we done here?" The sooner Taylor could put that slip behind her, the happier she'd be.

Janesha snorted. "Fuck, no! I'm gonna finish the job. From what I understand, no matter how badly you hurt these things, they get better. Well, I'm not going to give her the chance to come back and screw with you and Danny while I'm not around." She turned back to Taylor. "Unless you really want to go home? I can drop you off, if you want …."

Taylor genuinely considered doing just that. But in the end, it came down to one irrefutable fact: their world would be better off without the Simurgh. Even if they had a fight and Janesha left tomorrow, one fewer Endbringer in the world was worth a little irritation. "I'm still in," Taylor said. "I've been with you this far. I'm not backing out now." She looked up toward their destination. "I mean, helping you fight the Simurgh on the far side of the Moon wasn't exactly what I expected to be doing today, but hey, let's go do that thing."

"Damn right," agreed Janesha. "And just by the way, I was right about her. She's only a construct. Absolute death on mortals who haven't been celestially boosted, but no contest for an actual celest." Nudging Cloudstrike's ribs with her heels, she shook the reins out. "Let's go, girl."

The previous times Taylor had gone off-planet with Janesha, ironically enough, they'd been moving a lot faster; the Moon had whipped by in an eyeblink. Now that they were actually _going_ there, she had time to watch Earth's satellite expanding like a moon-landing documentary set to fast-forward. Seconds after leaving atmosphere, they went from 'approaching' the Moon to 'flying over' the rugged landscape.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, you feathered freaking nuisance …" murmured Janesha. She'd made over her eyes again, probably so she could scan the terrain over the full one-hundred-eighty-degree sweep in front of them.

"Maybe we should go a little higher," Taylor suggested. "It'll make it easier to spot her."

"Good idea." Janesha signalled Cloudstrike somehow and the mystallion began a long climbing turn. "You know, this is the first time I've ever had to go looking for something that was actually trying to hide from me. Apart from Scion, that is. I'm too young to go on a talot-hunt with the others."

"Yeah, but—" Taylor's rebuttal was cut short when a boulder the size of an RV came flying up from the surface of the Moon, on a direct collision course with them. "Shit!"

With a snort of alarm, Cloudstrike angled one wing and side-slipped out of the way; just in time to collide with a second rock which had been thrown using the first one as cover. The impact was considerable; the chunk of moon rock shattered into ten thousand pieces as it smashed into Cloudstrike's armor, but Taylor was still thrown clear of the mystallion. As she spun over and over with no way to correct her motion, she tried to keep sight of Janesha but failed. It didn't help that her friend was wearing all black with just a few gold highlights. She couldn't even tell if Cloudstrike was injured or just woozy from the impact. Hadn't Janesha implied that the armour she'd given the mystallion was unbreakable?

In any case, here she was, falling toward the Moon, and the only power she had apart from the ones allowing her to survive the situation … was bug control. And she was a quarter of a million miles away from the only bugs in the realm of Earth Bet.

 _Well, crap._

As she fell, still spinning over and over, she made out the figure below. Far from her pristine alabaster form, the Simurgh was looking not unlike a chew-toy belonging to a family of over-aggressive pit bulls. Half her head was missing, along with one arm and most of her auxiliary wings, plus a large number of feathers and random chunks of her torso. She was also a dull grey in color, not pure white, almost as if ….

 _Holy shit. She covered herself in moon dust so she could hide better._ It had definitely worked, especially when she'd thrown two rocks at them in a row without being spotted. _But Janesha had said her and Cloudstrike were a blindspot to her. That the Simurgh couldn't use her precog to get a bead on them. How did the Simurgh throw the rock so precisely?_

 _Wait a minute._

 _Shit._

It was all so clear now.

 _Me._ The realization was a sinking one. _I've got celestial constructs keeping me alive, but I'm human. I'm mortal. The Simurgh can precog_ me _. She can predict where I'm going to be. And she can throw rocks._

 _I brought this on. I got Cloudstrike hurt. It's all my fault._

Still tumbling over and over, Taylor fell toward the lunar surface. "Janesha!" she called or tried to call. But nothing happened; at some point after leaving the celestial girl's presence, the air surrounding her had given way to vacuum. When she opened her mouth, the air inside her lungs also escaped in a rush. She could feel pressure inside her digestive system attempting to escape through one orifice or the other, but the sheer durability of her improved body reduced it to a mild discomfort that she was easily able to repress.

Landing on the moon was a lot softer than she'd expected. She bounced, skidded, and then rolled to a stop. When she jumped to her feet—bouncing a few inches from the surface in the process—she was also covered in moondust, which she brushed off as best she could. This costume was going to need a _serious_ dry-cleaning once she got back to Earth.

 _If_ she got back to Earth.

She squashed that line of thought ruthlessly. She herself was still alive, so Janesha was _fine._ Janesha was a celestial. _Scion_ was demonstrably afraid of Janesha. Cloudstrike was a mystallion, and she'd been given unbreakable armor, so she'd be fine too. Janesha would get her out of this, and they'd laugh about it afterward. But like the Simurgh herself, Taylor was one tiny dot on a very large satellite. Fortunately, due to her link with Janesha, she'd be worrying about food and water long before she had any problems with the lack of air pressure and oxygen around her. And in fact, she'd heard stories about water being located on the lunar north pole when Sphere was first surveying to build his moonbase. _I wonder how long it would take me to get there. I wonder which way it is._

Her woolgathering was interrupted by a sudden and dire reminder that there was a danger on the Moon with her that involved neither suffocation, decompression, starvation nor thirst; this came in the form of a boulder hurtling at her head. She barely had enough time to brace herself and throw up one arm in front of her head before the flying chunk of lunar rock slammed into her. This one didn't shatter, but it did send her bowling hundreds of feet across the stark terrain.

For a second time, she got to her feet. Once more, she was covered in moondust, and now her costume was torn from elbow to wrist where she'd tried to block the boulder. She dusted off her hands and wiped her goggles clear, just in time to see the Simurgh coming for her. The Endbringer still had no face, which made her both unsettling _and_ terrifying, even though silvery flesh and black bones were slowly growing back into place.

Taylor dodged out of the way and grabbed up a baseball-sized rock of her own, but the Simurgh flickered into being right in front of her and lashed out an oversized hand around her throat. Being fifteen feet tall meant that she could put her hand all the way around Taylor's throat, with room to spare. Even as her feet were lifted off the ground, Taylor wasn't about to let the Simurgh try to strangle her, so she threw the rock which the Simurgh dodged, then grabbed the oversized fingers and thumb and heaved with everything she had.

She got the impression that the Endbringer before her really, _really_ wanted to have two hands to do the job, but her other arm was somewhere else, and the new one was taking its time growing in. With a certain amount of delighted shock, she also realized that she was actually able to prise apart the Simurgh's fingers. It wasn't easy and it wasn't quick, but by exerting all the force at her disposal, she could counteract the Simurgh's strength. Though irritatingly enough, the Endbringer's fingers didn't seem vulnerable to being broken or even snapped off, as Janesha had done with the thing's entire arm. _I should've known she was cheating with shifting._

Before she could figure out how to counterattack—the Simurgh's arm was longer than Taylor's entire _body,_ and the Endbringer could fly and teleport into the bargain—one large wing came around to batter her, throwing her backward on to her ass. For all that the Moon only had one-sixth gravity, she seemed to be spending a lot of time on the ground.

Rolling to her feet, she saw the Simurgh coming in at her, flying about five feet above the lunar landscape, hand outstretched in a claw. The harsh sun glinted off the dust-covered monster's nails as they reached out for Taylor's eyes. She wasn't going for a stranglehold this time. As far as Taylor could tell, she was looking to rip Taylor's eyes out, or maybe even drive her fingers into Taylor's brain.

 _Oh, sh_ —

In the most dramatic entrance Taylor had _ever_ seen, Janesha realm-stepped out of nowhere and dropped directly on to the Simurgh's back with both booted heels, driving the Endbringer face-down into the lunar rock. The shockwave of that impact knocked Taylor fifty feet back, despite the fact that there was no air on the Moon. Climbing to her feet yet again, she stared as Janesha hoisted the struggling Simurgh out of the substantial crater they'd created, holding her with fingers driven _into_ the pale-white skin on either side of the slender neck.

Janesha's eyes met hers, and Taylor hastily tapped the side of her head. She hoped her meaning was clear. _Come into my mind._

A moment later, they were kicking back in Taylor's living room, with the Simurgh hog-tied in front of them.

"Are you and Cloudstrike okay?" asked Taylor anxiously. "That rock hit us pretty hard."

"We're fine," Janesha replied, her worried expression relaxing. "Don't scare me like that. I thought I'd missed something."

"So where is she?"

"She's hovering overhead, just waiting for me to call her down. Turns out she's not too fond of wearing Gladiator's armor and has decided to sit the fight out rather than be stuck wearing it. I told her she had to keep it on until the Simurgh was taken care of, so she's up there sulking."

Taylor chuckled, picturing Cloudstrike muttering curses under her breath.

Janesha wasn't anywhere near as happy. Her lips were pinched into a thin line as she raked her eyes Taylor's disheveled appearance. "I am going to rip the heart right out of that fucking bitch and eat it in front of her!" she snarled, swiveling her gaze to look over her shoulder even as each of her teeth sharpened carnivorously.

"Hey, hey. I'm fine," Taylor insisted, forcibly getting in front of her friend. It wasn't hard to remember Janesha had blood ties to Hell when she talked like this, and Taylor didn't like it. "Seriously. Kill the Simurgh by all means, but don't just do it just because she roughed me up. If you go in mad, you'll make mistakes." Taylor had read that somewhere, and it sounded right. "Keep a clear head, for both our sakes." She tapped a nail against her friend's sharpened teeth, adding, "And lose those. They're seriously creeping me out."

Janesha ran her tongue across her teeth, and in its wake they were back to square and level. "Happy?"

Taylor knew she had to lighten the mood before she let Janesha go back outside to face the Simurgh. At the very least, people might be watching from the planet's surface, and it wouldn't look good if Janesha lost it and somehow turned into a psycho, flesh eating demon, which was exactly what it would look like.

With a wry grin, she said, "Absolutely. Now at least, I won't have to walk all the way home by myself. In case you hadn't noticed, Brockton Bay is a freakin' long way from the moon."

Just as she'd hoped, Janesha fought a losing battle against a smirk that twisted her lips upwards. "There's my best friend," Taylor declared, throwing her arms over Janesha's shoulders and pulling her into a hug. "Now on to the other reason I wanted to talk to you before you went to town on the Simurgh. She has a few invulnerabilities I don't know if you know about or not. The first one being, I don't think she has a heart. At least, not in her chest." When Janesha cocked an eyebrow, she went on to explain. "The torso is the most targeted spot on an Endbringer by the heroes, and it's never done a thing. But I've been going through the footage of your fight, and I think I've seen something. Can you bring up that screen thing again?"

"You do realize this is your imagination, right? You don't need me to make you anything in here. But alright, just to move things along …" The tv in the corner of the room expanded to take in the entire living room wall. "Go for it."

Taylor took a deep breath. "This right upper wing is different," she said, pulling up still images from her memories from the last half-hour. "Every time you've attacked her and come close to hitting that wing, she pulls it aside and hides it behind others." She fell silent then, letting the progression of images talk for itself.

Leaning forward with slightly parted lips, Janesha studied the pictures. Slowly, she shook her head. "Petal, I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You're a stone-cold wonder. This is _exactly_ what I needed to finish this without taking things to the next level. I could've been knocking bits off her from now until Uncle Chance comes to find me, and I _still_ probably wouldn't have located her weak spot like this."

Taylor blushed and smiled. "Hey, I'm just the spectator here," she said in an attempt at modesty. "You're the one who's got her on the run."

Janesha rolled her eyes. "As if. This is a team effort." Playfully, she mussed Taylor's hair. Moondust drifted on to the sofa.

"Hey, watch it." Taylor batted her hand aside with a giggle that belied her words. "Go kick her ass."

"You got it."

Abruptly, they were back on the lunar surface. The Simurgh tried to stand, but Janesha's grip was inexorable. Reaching out, the celestial girl took hold of the wing that the Endbringer had been holding back out of harm's way. Frantically, the Simurgh began to struggle, to the point that she was tearing her body free of Janesha's grip by ripping holes in her own neck. But it was too late; Janesha had the pinion in her hand.

With a sudden ripping motion, the celestial girl tore the wing away from the Endbringer's back and the fifteen-foot-tall body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. went limp and unresponsive. Blowing out a raspberry of disappointment, Janesha tossed the corpse, causing it to skid across the surface of the moon and come to an eventual stop. "Well, that was anticlimactic," she sneered, tossing the remaining limb over her shoulder and heading across the terrain towards Taylor. "If I wanted it to be over that fast, I wouldn't just gone for her consciousness and be done with it."

"What were you hoping for?"

Janesha shrugged. "I dunno. Something more substantial, I guess. I'm used to constructs being more … durable than this." She flicked the limb forward for them both to look at. "What sort of a souvenir should I turn this one into?" she asked. "An itty-bitty diamond replica with…hey!" The wing suddenly started to flail in a desperate attempt to get free of Janesha. "Oh, no you fucking don't, bitch!" Janesha tore the wing in half; one side kept flailing, while the other stopped moving. Frowning with concentration, she whittled it down until she was holding what had once been the wing joint and was now a featureless sphere about four inches across. "Now, this is more like it," she said, spinning the orb on one finger like a basketball pro. It suddenly darted upward, but Janesha snagged it with lightning-fast reflexes. "Come back here, you."

"Okay, I'll bite." Taylor stared at the ball. "What _is_ that thing?"

"Like I said, it's the seat of her consciousness and where she regenerates from. And it'll be where the energy rope is attached to. Ready to check it out?"

"Sure."

Janesha whistled to Cloudstrike, who came in for a landing. At least, that was what it had looked like in the beginning, until she whacked the side of her armored head against Janesha's shoulder in disgust. "Alright, alright, you absolute pain-in-the-ass!" Janesha scowled, pushing her winged friend to arm's length. With her free hand holding the flail/reins, all the extra mass that made up the mystallion armor broke into dust which Cloudstrike was able to discharge with an enthusiastic all-over body shake. "It was for your own good," Janesha insisted, which earned her another not-so-gentle nudge in the shoulder. "Push me one more time and you're on Brockton Bay's lawn rations for a week," Janesha warned, jerking the now normal reins for emphasis. Cloudstrike looked away, nickering violently under her breath.

Taylor tried not to laugh at their antics but failed miserably. "I'm sorry," she promised, as both turned to her.

Janesha tossed the reins over Cloudstrike's head and stepped back, giving the mystallion her head. "You might as well go for a long ride and get your shitty mood out of your system, Cloudstrike. Taylor and I are going to be realm-stepping all over the place, tracing this bitch back to her source."

It took all of a heartbeat for the mystallion to be out of sight, at which point Janesha held her free hand out to Taylor. "Let's go."

They all stepped through at the same moment into the surreal landscape of crystals large and small, most of them glowing with an inner radiance. She saw the two glowing cords flowing from her own forehead and it took her a moment to remember one would be her power, and the other would be the faux crystal Janesha had set up to keep them all connected. That would also explain the two cords from Janesha's head too, if the other went to a 'crystal' before going off to Taylor's father.

But the ball of crystal in Janesha's hand had a thread of its own, which led off to a part of the crystal forest they hadn't visited yet.

Janesha glanced at Taylor with a smirk on her face. "Shall we go and find whoever's running these suckers? With luck, it'll lead all the way back to where Scion's hiding."

Taylor could understand why that would appeal to her friend, but her hunch went elsewhere. Too many 'mortal' things were in play. "I still think it's a hybrid playing god."

Janesha started to wind the cord around the crystal ball, using the motion to rip off any feathery growths that were starting to reappear. "Let's go, then."

* * *

 **Contessa**

* * *

Fortuna eyed Clare closely. "Okay, they're both doing something else, right?"

There was nobody else present except Dorian, so the team seer nodded alertly. "Yes. They're in the celestial realm right now, backtracking the Simurgh. They're not paying any attention to the mortal realm, or to the pocket realm that Scion's hidden his main body in."

"Good. Dorian, when I give the signal, open a doorway to Scion's pocket realm." She put her fingers to her seclusion ring and pulled it almost to the tip of her finger, but not quite freeing herself of its protection.

Clare's eye-sockets flared brightly with flame to show his shock. Dorian also coughed and held up his hand. "This is in no way me attempting to second-guess you, commander," he said, frowning in confusion. "But what exactly do you plan to do, that won't leave your presence all over his mind for the Mystallians to follow up on?"

Fortuna gritted her teeth. As badly as she wanted to smack both her subordinates into next week, Dorian was correct. Nassites didn't stick their heads up without having a thousand ways to cover their tracks, and this was no exception. Any of the elders of Mystal could discover their handiwork.

"Because Scion's pulled the rabbit-hole in on himself and doesn't show any signs of coming out before the heat death of the Known Realms, so we have to coax him out. Scion's fully established here. There's no reason why he should lose to the Mystallian cow, especially if we help him from the shadows. But he's not going to do shit so long as he believes she can beat him. Which means, I need to put the kinds of innate questions that any celestial worth their mettle would ask themselves in this situation. _Why am I hiding from her?_ Once I put that thought in his head, his own ego and establishment field should take care of the rest, and when he finally comes out swinging and wins, it'll be a simple command extraction and everything inside his head will look perfectly legitimate thought process."

"So you're not going to implant the idea that she killed his sister?"

"No – the time discrepancies will have the Mystallians asking too many questions. Like I've always said, when in doubt, KISS it." _Keep it simple, stupid._

Dorian nodded, happier with this new plan than the uncertainties of the old one. "Say the word, commander."

"Now!" Contessa barked, yanking the ring off her finger. The portal opened, showing the enormous misshapen body Scion had retreated into. Which she now had line of sight on. _Alright, big boy – time to get you nice and stirred up._

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

"Well, this is different."

Taylor looked at her friend, then at the arrangement of cords that Janesha was referring to. "I'd say something about 'well, duh', but I have to agree. Even without being an expert on this sort of thing, this looks way different to basically everything else here."

There were several very good reasons for the statement. Just like the cord that led off from the sphere, there seemed to be no less than nineteen others of the same thickness all connected to the same crystal. But even that wasn't the weirdest part. This was in a part of the crystal forest where the standing crystals didn't emit their own light, which Taylor found even more creepy than normal. Worse, part of that crystal's surface was covered by a cord like hers. There were so many, it looked like electrified hair was coming off the crystal.

"Okay, not Scion," Janesha declared.

"What makes you so sure?" She really didn't want it to be Scion, but it was nice to hear her friend say it.

"If these were really connected to that golden freak, he'd have been all over me when I was plucking this bitch like a chicken. Just like I was when the Simurgh drop-kicked you across the moon's surface." Looking down at the ball in her hand, her lip curled in repulsion. "Which reminds me …" She closed her fingers, crushing the sphere to dust. The cord leading to the crystal winked out, and a moment later so did the cord leading from the crystal to the knot. "One down … lots to go."

It was then that Taylor realised what her friend was implying. 'Wait—wait—wait-a-minute! Are you saying all those thick cords are _Endbringers_?"

Janesha nodded. "Direct lines to working constructs. Why?"

Taylor pointed at the crystal in horror. "That's a hell of a lot more than three!"

"I guess the others haven't made their appearance yet."

Taylor had a hard time keeping herself upright. The more her thoughts bounced around the possibility that each of these thicker cables was an umbilical cord to an Endbringer, the harder it became, until her legs folded under her and she sat down on the ground with a heavy bump. "Hey! Are you okay?" Janesha was suddenly in front of her, holding her shoulders. "Shit, Taylor. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"There has to be at least twenty Endbringer cables there!"

Janesha looked over her shoulder briefly. "Yeah. So?"

"Just three have almost destroyed my world, and all of those are still just waiting to come out?"

"Breathe, Taylor. It's going to be okay. We're going to go find the hybrid and explain to him why he's not going to release any more for shits and giggles, okay? There's not going to be any more Endbringers to destroy your world. I'll break all their spheres before I leave, if I have to."

"And what's stopping him from making more?" Taylor asked, almost in defeat. "You're not going to be here forever."

"I know, but I'll get into his head, and I'll make him play nice. I won't let him do this to you, okay, petal? You'll be fine, and your world 'll be fine. We're gonna track him down, and we're gonna make him stop. Okay?"

Taylor breathed through the lightheadedness until her thought began to crystallise once more. "Yeah," she said, bobbing her head, even as Janesha slid her hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet. "We can do this. Wherever or whoever the hybrid is, you have to be more powerful than him, right?"

"Exactly," Janesha replied, dusting her off, if only to give her more time to recover. "Now, let's go pay the sick shit a visit."

* * *

End of Part Sixteen


	18. Chapter 17

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Seventeen: Hard Derail

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and co-written by Karen Buckeridge, author of_ _ **Ties That Bind** , and the sequel **The Long Way Home** (publishing in the new year).]_

* * *

 **Zion**

* * *

Sagun Hawthorn of Earlafaol, bastard son of Zeus and now the pre-eminent superhero and (technically) ruling god of the world known locally as Earth Bet, stirred in his self-imposed exile. In a mind that had been numbed by grief for more decades than he cared to admit, a new thought emerged. One that made him feel something other than debilitating emptiness.

 **Why the fuck am I cowering in a hole like such a little fucking bitch?**

He knew _why_ he'd hidden; Janesha of Mystal was a Nascerdios, and he'd learned firsthand that 'Nascerdios' meant 'celestial' and celestials as a whole wanted him dead. He hadn't really done it consciously. It was more of a knee-jerk reaction to her presence. He wasn't capable of much more than that consciously, but this new, aggressive thought was shaking the cobwebs loose. He was functioning again. And the longer he thought about that angry thought, the more he realised something very important: Nascerdios or not, Janesha of Mystal was _not_ Agent Nascerdios who had booted him and Edeena off Earlafaol. In fact, Janesha was just a _kid_. The very notion that she could pose a credible threat to someone as powerful as him was patently ridiculous. And the FBI agent who _had_ given them the heave-ho from Earlafaol was all the way back _there_ , not here on Earth Bet. There was no question in his mind that he could handle a kid.

So, what the hell was he doing lurking in this little sub-realm, and not out there showing Janesha of Mystal why he was the ruling power in the whole realm? This was his sandbox, goddamn it! His! He'd found it first! Those were his markings on the border, and he had more right than anything to be here! The celestial could just fuck off to wherever she came from!

For the first time since losing Edeena, real anger stirred in his heart. He'd run and hidden from the mere threat of a fucking name, when he should've known he had nothing to fear from it. He'd been made to look like a _coward!_

 _I am Zion. I am the Golden Man! Son of Zeus and master of this realm. I am the greatest superhero in the history of superheroes. And no **kid** is going to make me run and hide anymore._

Reforming the Scion aspect, he opened a portal into Earth Bet proper and stepped through.

 _Time to go and show a little bitch who's boss around here._

* * *

 **Eidolon**

* * *

David sighed with aggravation as he stalked through the wreckage of the small town. Emergency services were starting to assess the damage, though small fires still burned here and there. The Fallen had been and gone yet _again_ , leaving pain and suffering in their wake. One of the most irritating and worrying aspects of the group was the way even the unpowered members were able to evade Thinker oversight. That indicated a powerful Trump was at work, as if a bunch of Endbringer cultists needed to be more problematic than they already were.

He didn't even want to think about how they were going to respond to the footage of Janesha of Mystal attacking the Simurgh in the upper atmosphere—on the back of that damned flying horse of hers no less. Who did she think she was, swooping in like that? An avenging Valkyrie? Everyone knew the Simurgh was not to be trifled with; though in fairness, the third Endbringer had been exhibiting some serious battle damage before they all disappeared. But what did that mean for the people of the world? There was no chance the girl could actually _win_ , which meant when (not if) the Simurgh recovered, she was going to come back and take her rage out on the hapless population.

At that moment, he wished he could get his hands on Janesha, if only to shake some much-needed sense into her. She needed to leave the hero work to the professionals! The PHO boards—already inclined to jump up and down at any mention of Janesha—were slowly but surely exploding at this latest exploit. Some claimed that she was as powerful as any member of the Triumvirate; a blatantly ridiculous claim. Next to Scion, the Triumvirate were the world's greatest superheroes. If _they_ couldn't put an end to the Simurgh after years of trying, what chance did a teenager on a flying horse have?

"You! Yeah, you, in the green! C'mere! I've got a bone to pick with you, you bonehead."

The imperious voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned slowly to see Janesha of Mystal herself standing a few yards away, hands on her hips. The flying horse was nowhere to be seen, but a cape he'd never seen before, a tall girl wearing a vaguely bug-themed costume, stood at Janesha's shoulder. David glanced around; nobody else nearby was wearing green, but surely she wasn't addressing him. As Eidolon, he was literally world-famous! And right now, he couldn't help but stare at the impudent teen, gobsmacked. "Me?" he finally managed to say, pointing at himself for clarification.

Janesha rolled her eyes. "No, duh. I was talking to your invisible twin brother, who's _also_ wearing a stupid green cape. _Yes_ , David. I'm talking to you." She snapped her fingers and pointed at the ground in front of her. " **Get your ass over here! Now!** "

As much he was irritated by her tone and the way she stabbed the ground in front of her like he was an errand dog being brought to heel, the way she _also_ snarkily dropped his secret identity got his undivided attention. He strode forward, almost instinctively throwing up a soundproof bubble of air around them. "Who the hell do you think you are?" he roared.

Janesha sucked in a sharp breath and clenched her fists, but the bug cape grabbed her wrist with one hand and used the other to stroke Janesha's forearm calmingly. "Easy," the buzzing voice inside the suit said.

Janesha turned to the girl, even as she brought her other hand up to point at him accusingly. "Have you forgotten what he's done? The millions upon millions of dead on this world, all because of him?" Her head then swung back to him. "And don't even try to activate the others, you piece of shit, because I've already destroyed one, and if I have to go through the rest of them to get back to this point, I'm gonna be seriously pissed off." The last part was said through gritted teeth.

David was left reeling. "What are you even talking about?" he demanded. "How do you even know my name?"

He could've sworn he almost caught sight of naked flames eating up the brown of Janesha's irises for a moment. But when he blinked, they were back to normal. "Same way I know every other aspect of your life, _Dave_. You can fool all these other people with your created history and your fake link to all the crystals, but you're dealing with one of your own now. So cut the crap." Her eyes suddenly widened and she covered her mouth with her free hand. "Oh, shit! That's why this realm's so small. It's a fucking nursery! Your dad's teaching you how to handle yourself," —her eyes slid across him critically— "And doing a sucky job of it."

"My _what_?" David hadn't spoken to his father in years. Not since the three-star general had retired and moved to Florida, anyway.

"Your dad. The golden dipshit I chased all over this mudball of a planet yesterday. Well, now that I know it's a nursery realm, I guess I can't get too mad at you for being an idiot. But things are gonna have to change before I go." She leaned forward and lowered her voice theatrically. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone that you're a hybrid. I'll even let you keep pretending to be a superhero while you're here, because sooner or later you'll grow out of it. But in the meantime, I'm gonna have to insist that you change a few things in the way you operate."

"Wait …" Most of the girl's ramblings made absolutely no sense to Eidolon, but the one thing he caught in all of that, he really wished he hadn't. "You think—you think Scion's…" he couldn't even bring himself to say it.

"Your dad. Your father. _Su padre_. The guy who boinked your mom." Janesha poked him in the chest with her forefinger. "Why else do you think your power sits head and shoulders above…" Janesha's words died in her throat as she stared at her finger still touching Eidolon's chest. How she managed it, David didn't know, but one second she seemed to be in the midst of some kind of loopy monologue, and the next, everything about her iced over. When she lifted her eyes to his, it was all Davis could do to not stumble away in fear. "Oh, you mother-fucking _fuckers_ ," she snarled, her words dripping with frigid venom.

The bug cape tightened her grip on Janesha's forearm. "Janesha, wait. What's wrong?"

Janesha turned to her friend. "He's not a hybrid," she said.

The bug cape tilted her head in surprise. "He's not?"

Janesha shook her head, levelling a filthy glare at the international hero. "No," she snarled, and what was that other rumbling sound that seemed to accompany the word as it left her mouth. It was almost … dare he say it; _unholy_.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

Taylor was completely confused. Janesha had been so sure of the facts, but something had changed, and it had her friend madder than Taylor had ever seen her. Not that she hadn't been mad at the Simurgh, but this was a different kind of mad. With the Simurgh, everything had blown up at once. This was more like a timer had been triggered on a nuclear bomb, and Taylor didn't like what that meant for the world if she reached detonation.

Taylor squeezed her friend's arm again and willed her to understand that she wanted a private conversation inside her imagination. With Eidolon right there, she didn't want to risk tapping the side of her head.

Janesha must've somehow got the message though, because between one instant and the next, they were back in the comfort of her living room.

"What's going on?" Taylor asked, immediately gathering both of her friend's hands in hers. "Talk to me, Janesha. You're scaring me."

"I thought what happened to Uncle Chance was bad enough," she said, just as icily as she had outside in the real world. "But Scion and your people are fucking _sick_ fucks."

 _Your people._ That set off Endbringer sirens in Taylor's mind. Whatever Janesha had seen inside Eidolon's mind had turned all the people of Earth Bet into Janesha's enemy, and Taylor and her dad were probably the only two people that stood between her and _her people's_ way of dealing with problematic mortals.

"So he's not the hybrid," she said, starting with something she knew for a fact.

"No, he's just a cannibalistic fucker!"

Taylor scrambled to process that piece of information. "Are you saying … he ate a piece of _Scion_?" That would at least explain why she'd thought Eidolon was Scion's son.

Janesha shook her head. "No. If Scion let that happen he'd deserve whatever he got. No, the insidious bastard has set up a second celest for them to feast on, and Eidolon and his crew have been hacking into it and eating it for its divinity." She turned to stare at Taylor, every one of her facial features shifting into the kind of monster most horror films were filled with. Her eyes took on balls of flame. Her skin became dark and leathery. Her teeth sharpened and her hair turned into wiry threads that ended in sharp points. Was this what she looked like as a demon, and if so, what did the rest of her look like?

Then Taylor focused on the important part. "Scion had a partner?"

Janesha nodded. "And the two must've fallen out at some point, because he's been getting some of your people to think it would be a good idea to consume it like a beverage to gain its divine essence. That way, they could get …" —her fingers came up in air-quotes— "… _powerful_." Her hands dropped to her sides and the fire that filled her eyes expanded down to her cheekbones. "I'll fucking show them _power …_ "

"Janesha … Janesha! Wait, please-please-please-and-yes-I'm-begging-please! Wait!" She would get down on her knees if she had to, to prevent her friend from leaving. "If you kill everyone in my world, you'll have to kill me and dad too. Is that what you really want?"

"Neither of you did this." Her head turned to the far wall that implied the outside world. " _They_ did."

"But not all of them did it either! You said it yourself! There's a lot of people on this world that didn't do anything of the sort, and they'd be horrified if they knew. Would you really kill us all for the actions of a few?" Just a week ago, she'd been the one curled in a ball on this very sofa, wondering what was the point of life, and here she was, begging her best friend for everyone's lives. It just went to show how much things changed in a week. "I know you're mad, and I know you have every right to be, but don't be mad at all of us." She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around her friend's waist, staring up at her pleadingly. "Please, please, don't do this. Please!"

Janesha looked at a point over her head, her body shivering until her head began thrashing from side to side at an unnatural pace. _How did I ever think of her as human?_

When she stilled, her features had returned to normal, although Taylor couldn't tell if the fire was out due to her eyes being clenched shut. Janesha's hands reached out and unerringly found Taylor's elbows, lifting the girl to her feet. She still didn't open her eyes, even when she let Taylor go and slid her arms around her friend's waist, holding her close. She bowed her head into Taylor's shoulder; not saying anything.

Having the feeling that they'd dodged a world-ending bullet by the skin of their teeth, Taylor enclosed her friend's shoulders in a tight embrace, mirroring the way Janesha had her face pressed into her shoulder.

The two held each other for a very long time.

"I'm going to kill them," Janesha declared, shattering the peace they shared.

Taylor pushed her friend to arm's length. "Which 'them' are we talking about, exactly?" _We,_ because yes, Taylor was in this all the way. Someone needed to keep her friend on an even keel.

"Anyone who willingly knew what they were doing when they drank those potions. Not the idiots who were tricked into it, although a big part of me still wants to eviscerate them for being so stupid as well. But at the very least, those who knowingly fed on Scion's companion are going down, in the worst way imaginable. And if Scion himself is behind this …" Leaving the sentence hanging, she shook her head.

Taylor swallowed, knowing this was the best compromise she could hope for. "Did-did Eidolon …?"

Janesha released her and stepped back, nodding. "Yeah, the depraved bastard knew all about it. He's even been getting booster shots to pump up his capabilities. That's why he's so powerful, and why he has control of the Endbringers. He swallowed the equivalent of their remote control."

A whimsical thought crossed Taylor's mind. _That might make it hard to change channels._ But she ruthlessly crushed the notion. _Save the world now; joke later._

"Are you going to do it as soon as we get out of here?" Taylor could already see a million problems with that, all of which began and ended with the number of camera crews that her photographic memory had reminded her were in the vicinity out there. If Janesha did murder Eidolon in front of the world, she'd have a kill-order on her so fast it'd make their heads spin. They might even put one on her too, since she was with Janesha at the time of Eidolon's death. That would only have Janesha escalating once more, and if someone managed to take Taylor out, the celestial girl would have even less reason to hold back the next time.

Fortunately, Janesha shook her head. "No," she said, though it sounded like the admission left a sour taste in her mouth. "I don't want to spend the next decade tearing this realm apart for where Eidolon and his cronies have hidden the other celestial. Right now, all he knows is he calls out "Doorway to", and a gateway of sorts opens between him and wherever he wants to be that he steps through. He hasn't got a clue where exactly it is, and as such, I can't realm-step to it. It's like being blindfolded in the car and turning up somewhere. I don't know where 'there' is, because he doesn't either."

"So you need him alive to take you there his way." Wherever it was, it had to be away from the cameras. The news people would never have abandoned a story that big.

Janesha nodded again. "He's got 'til then to make peace with whatever god he worships because, once we're with the other celest, he'll be meeting them soon enough to explain himself. I might even pin a letter of complaint to his soul before it leaves."

"Could I put in a teensy request at this point?" Taylor asked, holding up one finger. She was rewarded with a tight smile and a tilt of one eyebrow for her to continue. "The second we get out of here, could you like, just stop him from doing whatever he does with the Endbringers? _If_ he genuinely doesn't know he's controlling them, he might accidentally trigger all those other ones, and I meant what I said about not having my world torn apart if I can help it." With what she hoped was a joking grin, she added, "You know, since I'm partial to living here and all."

Janesha crossed her eyes mockingly, then nodded. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Then let's get out of here."

* * *

 **Eidolon**

* * *

 _"Of course not! Scion is not my father!"_ David shouted; a phrase he'd never thought he would have to utter. "Why would you even _think_ he was?"

"Because you're the one controlling the Endbringers," the bug cape cut in, her voice on the verge of tears. "We followed their trail right to you." She then raised her free hand and tried to cover her mouth, as if forgetting there was a helmet in the way. "How _could_ you?"

"I'm not in control of the Endbringers! I _fight_ them!"

"Formulas," Janesha snarled, cutting back in. "That's how you justify your actions? You call them 'formulas', like they're something you whipped up in a …" —her eyes widened again— "… in a _cauldron_?"

David's eyes widened behind his visor. He'd never made that connection before. _How did she even know about the vials? Who **is** this girl? Why would she ever think Scion was my father? What's a hybrid, anyway? And what the fuck does she mean, she's going to 'let' me keep 'pretending' to be a superhero?_ He was beginning to regret not looking over the file he'd been sent about Janesha of Mystal after the Shadow Stalker incident. Right now, though, he had to plug this information leak and find out _what_ she knew; and more importantly, _how_ she knew it. _I need to get both of them back to Cauldron, right now._ The sound-cancelling field hardened into a force bubble. "You're coming with me right now, both of you," he snapped. Energy began to build up around his hands.

" **Turn that shit off!** " Janesha roared, her voice filling with that vile rumbling he'd heard earlier. He obeyed immediately; not because he had to but because he knew he didn't need that much force to bring the two girls back to Cauldron, and the cameras in the area had already taken an interest in the actions of three heroes hidden behind a force field. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Janesha got in first. " **Take us to your flesh garden.** "

On second thought, it was probably a good idea to show them where the formulas were harvested from, in order to impress upon them the sheer gravity of the situation. "Alright. Maybe then you'll understand what we're doing and why," he replied, though a little voice in the back of his mind wondered how she'd known what they called the source of the vials.

Raising his voice slightly, he said, "Doorway to the flesh garden." The Clairvoyant would hear his command, and Doormaker would create a portal that led straight there. It was how the system worked.

* * *

 **Contessa, a minute or so earlier**

* * *

Having withdrawn from Scion, Fortuna nodded at Dorian to shut the connection. When he did, Clare of all people was right in her face. "Commander, the Mystallian bitch has tracked down _Eidolon_! They're talking!"

Fighting the urge to throttle her subordinate for not mentioning the fiasco as soon as he became aware of it, Contessa immediately rolled her thoughts inward, giving herself as much time as she needed to process this new development. Okay, so they were talking. What did that mean to them? What exactly did Eidolon know? He knew that Scion was the enemy and that Cauldron was supposed to be the last line of defence against him. That fitted in with her narrative and there was nothing Janesha would react to. Problem: he knew where Cauldron was. Actually … no, he didn't. He knew how to reach out to her boys to get here. That wasn't the same thing, especially if she told Dorian to ignore him. Okay, still, not a problem.

But he did know about the existence of Edeena. That, and what they were doing to her, was a fundamentally huge problem. Like any celestial, Janesha would lose her mind once she learned of the consumption. It had actually been the whole point: eating Edeena alive to get a reaction out of Scion. The dumb fuck just wasn't picking up on it quickly enough. Janesha might though. Especially if she saw that in Eidolon's memories.

So what would it cost them if Janesha did destroy the world? Wouldn't that trigger Scion's rage in return, since she'd broken one of Scion's personal play-worlds? Hypothetically speaking, the two would probably fight it out in one of the other Earths, but Earth Bet was the only one where Scion had worshippers. If it went down, he'd go back to having base attunement while Janesha was a full blooded celestial. That fight wouldn't end the way Fortuna and the rest of Abaddon wanted. Scion not only had to win, but he had to be _seen_ to win for the other Mystallians to react accordingly.

So, no. No letting Janesha destroy the world … yet.

But Eidolon was mortal, in a realm where she was attuned. What he did and didn't know was dependent on her whim. If she stopped Eidolon from knowing about Edeena, Janesha would know it was done from range by an attuned celestial, and the pièce de résistance to that plan was the silly little bitch still thought Scion was the only attuned celest in the realm.

 _This could actually work_.

Returning to the physical realm, Fortuna turned to Dorian who stood at the ready nearby. "Do not link him to Edeena," she said, refusing to waste time with their familiar profanity. Dorian nodded once without comment, freeing her from the unnecessary burden of explaining herself further. She then slid her ring from her finger and pushed her will into the attuned realm. **Eidolon will not remember anything about the celestial known as Edeena.** While she had the power to embellish the command, she didn't want to spend too much time without the protection of her ring. Luck, as always, was on her side, but even her luck would run its course if Davin chose that moment to contact her.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

She couldn't see much of Eidolon's face under his visor, but his voice sounded puzzled. Ummm—Doorway to ..." but then he paused, and his frown intensified. "Uh—where was I going again?" he asked vaguely.

"Oh, fuck me, not you too!" Janesha snarled, then, while waving a hand at Eidolon, she turned towards Taylor. "See? This is exactly what happened to you, only in your case, you were physically kneecapped."

Eidolon looked between both of them in surprise. "This happened to you too?" This was more serious than he thought, if Scion had extended his power and was able to lash out at individuals like this. Eidolon rubbed the back of his neck. "No, I've got this! You wanted to go to see …" He frowned, struggling to find the name of a place he couldn't remember.

Janesha snapped her fingers between them to garner his attention. "Hey," she said. "If you could remember where it was, do you have a means to teleport there yourself, without using an external force?"

Eidolon snorted. The answer was that obvious. "Of course."

"Then let's do that, and screw Scion."

Taylor guessed that Janesha had fulfilled her part of the bargain, because suddenly Eidolon went from nearing a panic to his usual confident self. "Alright," he said, lifting a glowing hand over his head. "I hope neither one of you gets motion sickness."

* * *

 **Contessa**

* * *

"Eidolon's setting up a portal of his own to get to Edeena," Clare warned.

"Oh, how the _fuck…_?" exploded Fortuna. "I took the knowledge of how to get here away from him!"

Clare shrugged, carefully. "The little Mystallian bitch just put the fucking memory back. She must've gone through his mind before you got to him."

"Oh, that little whorebag's getting on my last fucking nerve." Fortuna tugged the ring off, and leaned back into her attunement. **No matter how you try, you can't fucking teleport, period!** Unlike boons, attunement commands went with the will of the creator, which meant vague commands like this with no named target were still individually specific. The construct connected to him was still able to teleport him, but the mortal had been stopped from achieving that objective.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

The glow around Eidolon's hand winked out and again Eidolon's mouth pinched in a tight line of confusion. A second later, Janesha started swearing up a storm. Taylor could guess the missing pieces, but wanted to hear them for herself. "It happened again, didn't it?" she asked, eyeing the other two carefully.

"Yeah, the bastard's watching him like a hawk," Janesha cursed, her nostrils flaring in frustration.

Taylor's eyes opened wide behind her goggles. _So Scion just mind-bent Eidolon, twice in as many minutes! Holy fuck! I thought that sort of thing was only line of sight!_ As surreptitiously as she could, she began to use the bugs in the immediate vicinity to check on where the golden cape could be hiding. Try as she might, she couldn't locate him. "Uh—Janesha?"

"Yeah?" To someone who didn't know the celestial girl as well as Taylor did, Janesha may have sounded entirely carefree. But there was an undercurrent of tension in her voice.

"He's not here."

The right side of Janesha's nose screwed up unpleasantly. "Yeah, I know. Bastard knows if he comes anywhere near me, I'll gut the prick."

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

She couldn't pretend the whole picture had presented itself to her, but Janesha was starting to put the pieces together. Powers came from the crystalline forest in the celestial realm. The crystals were constructs, which begged the question of who had created them. At first, she'd thought Scion was the only player in all this; when it came to picking out the celestial in the room, he ticked a crapload of boxes. But before they were scrubbed, Eidolon _had_ memories of drinking a foul-tasting concoction, which had resulted in him gaining powers. The concoction had come from a huge fleshy creature with odd growths on it; people drinking these concoctions gained powers.

As much as Janesha didn't want to believe it, the conclusion was unavoidable. The 'flesh-garden' creature was celestial in nature, and they were literally _ingesting_ parts of it to get access to its essence, which connected them to the crystal forest and the powers contained therein.

She'd thought it was creepy when Yeshua's followers had chanted, "This is my body and this is my blood," at the only one of their rituals she'd ever attended; this was a million times worse. These mortals were _actually_ eating and drinking parts of a celestial being. It wasn't making _them_ divine, any more than being burned with Hellfire made someone a hellion, but it _was_ linking them to pre-made construct-based powers. Against an actual celestial with training, even a hybrid, it would be like a child waving a plastic sword to take on a trained warrior armed with Mystallian steel; there would be no good end there. But against other mortals, construct-based powers were horrifically potent.

For the most part, Janesha didn't give two flying fucks about what mortals did to each other. She _did_ care about what they did to celestials. Specifically, what was being done to this one celestial, right here and right now. It was a travesty and a perversion of the natural order of things. And she was just the celestial to put an end to it.

Of course, knowing _who_ the celestial was, and why Scion hated them so much that he was secretly supporting this abomination was a question which probably needed to be addressed at some point. But right now, she had to get to where the celestial was and put a stop to the gross essence-harvesting.

 _Okay, since Scion's being a dick, can_ **I** _get us there?_ Theoretically, it was possible. She _had_ gone through his memories already (replacing his recollection of the location of the Cauldron base had been child's play) but she still had her original problem. She still didn't know where _there_ was, to realm-step to it.

 _All right then; plan B it is._

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

"Alright, enough."

Janesha's voice cut through the sound of Eidolon muttering to himself as he traced arc after fruitless arc through the air. Taylor turned to look at the celestial girl, who was tapping her toe impatiently at the veteran superhero.

"What?" burst out Eidolon, the frustration clear in his voice. "I'm _trying._ But my portal power isn't working. It's like something's blocking me."

"Not something. Some _one_." There was a rock-solid certainty in Janesha's voice. "And you're never going to break through it, so stop trying." She grabbed Taylor with one hand, and Eidolon with the other. "But you _are_ coming along for the ride. I don't want to have to chase you down, after."

Eidolon was well and truly rattled by now. "Are you saying _you_ can get us to Cauldron base?"

Taylor snorted. "She can get us to Alpha Centauri. Of _course_ she can get us to Cauldron base."

"It'll be a round-about way, but yeah, I can get us there." Taylor was certain she was saying that for her sake, rather than Eidolon's. That was confirmed when her friend squeezed her hand and took a step forward, hauling Eidolon along with her. Well used to this by now, Taylor also took a step. Eidolon, clearly unaware of what was going on, was caught entirely by surprise when their surroundings changed abruptly, to the crystalline forest with the glowing sky overhead. Like she had before, Taylor could see the cords that linked Eidolon to so many of the crystals (including the Endbringer ones), but she knew for a damned fact that he couldn't.

"What the … _hell_?" Eidolon stared around wildly. "Where have you brought me? _How_ did you bring me here? What is this place? _Where_ is this place?"

"Funny you should mention Hell, since it's about … five realms that way." Janesha curled her lip in disgust at the famous hero as she pointed off in a particular direction. "And if that's what you believe in, you're gonna be heading right where you deserve to be. Lord Belial and his boys will fuck you over in ways you haven't even imagined yet, and I wish I could be there to see it."

Taylor squeezed Janesha's hand. "Is it really?" she asked, looking off in the direction with trepidation. She hadn't thought the real _Hell_ was that close.

Janesha looked at her friend and smiled. "Well, technically it's two realms that way, hook a left at Asgard, and then go three more realms that way, but yeah, it's about five realms away in total." Her hands moved as if she were giving Taylor directions to the corner store and not one of the more feared places in religious scripture. "Trust me, you won't miss it."

Eidolon straightened up; something about his posture said that he was glaring at her and Janesha both. "Enough double-talk. I want an explanation of what's going on, and I want it _now._ "

Janesha turned her full attention to Eidolon, who gasped and fell to his knees. "̶̝͙͂W̷̜̥͌͌h̸̥̦͘ī̴̩c̷̪̤̄͝h̷̻̑͊ ̷͔́͠g̸̙̑͒o̷̜̫̊d̷̗̓̈ ̴͓̻̂d̴̡̥̓̅o̵͊̈ͅ ̴͖̂ÿ̸̤̗́ô̸̭͔ủ̶̫ ̷͉͊w̵̞͒̕o̷̳̊̀r̶͙͕̈́s̸̹̔h̴͓̍̄į̴͎͌̊p̶̭͚̿,̵̰͐͠ ̵̳̈l̵͓͐͠į̵̈́t̴̲͒̀t̵̺̳̐l̷̜̼͌ė̴̯́͜ ̵̙̺̈́ṃ̵̿o̶̜̅r̶̟̬̐̌t̶͙̂a̷̹̬̿l̷̮̮̍?̴̮̞̄"̵̳͊ she asked, in an infernal voice that was one hundred percent demonic. "̶̹̑͑B̸̭͘ę̵͋̈́c̶̠͚̒́a̴͚̽͘ǔ̴̻s̶̡͚͝ê̷͈̈́ ̶̫͖͂y̷̺͑̾ȯ̸̖̪u̶͎̮̍ ̶̹̃͗h̷̰̰̕͝ă̵̻̓v̵͓̀̆e̵̦͈̾ ̴͓̖̀j̸̛̙̍u̴̧̟̇s̴͎̗͌t̴̻͗̏ͅ ̶̩̥̅ò̵̢̕ú̴͍̎t̴̘̊l̶̲̯̃́ǐ̶̘̟v̴͍̀e̵͇͒d̴̙̱̒ ̶̨̳͐ÿ̴̺́͝o̷̯̮̒͐u̷̧̽͜r̸̰̬͆̓ ̵̳̤̿ǘ̸͎s̶̩̻̉̓ę̷͖͐͠f̷̣͘ǔ̴͓̃l̵̪̿̔ǹ̶͖̲̇e̵̗͒̎s̷͚̃š̶̨̗͐ ̷̳̮̐͠t̶͎̖̽ơ̶͓͛ ̴͎̺̆m̴͉̒ḛ̶͔́.̶̫́̇"̶̟͖͗ ̷̝̿

Taylor had a hard time remembering that this was her friend, especially when she realised there was nothing stopping Janesha from drawing this out into the worst kind of torture session now that there were no witnesses. He'd certainly made her mad enough, if that head thrashing thing she'd done before was any indication. "Janesha, wait," she said, using her second hand to grip both sides of Janesha's wrist.

Janesha paused and slid her gaze to Taylor without saying a word.

"Don't drag it out," Taylor pleaded. "He might deserve it, but I'd never be able to look at you the same way again, if I knew you'd deliberately tortured him first."

Janesha's chest expanded as she drew in an oversized breath, and when she released it, it exited her mouth in a stream of grey and white smoke. Taylor didn't blink until she was sure she saw her friend's head bob just a fraction. "Why don't you go and check out the back end of one of those larger crystals," Janesha said more normally, flicking her head towards the oversized constructs in the distance that would keep her well-hidden from what was about to happen. "I'll be with you in a minute."

If Eidolon knew what was coming, he made no show of it. He simply stared blankly at the ground before him. It gave Taylor the chills to see that level of capitulation from someone she'd looked up to her whole life; but he'd done the unthinkable. There was no good reason for his actions. If she had to choose between the individuals who crossed the line, and the lives of everyone who'd done nothing wrong, this was the preferred option. Did that make her a killer too, because she wasn't trying to stop it? She looked at Janesha's face and knew there _was_ no stopping it. Just like when a fire burned down a house; there was always a point when the firefighters stepped back and let it happen. This was one of those moments.

"Okay."

Taylor went behind the nearest crystal and, using it as a backrest, she slid to the ground with her knees drawn to her chest and her hands over her ears with her eyes clenched shut. She didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to see it. She didn't want any part of it to touch her any more than it already had.

Which was why she nearly jumped out of her skin a minute or so later when a hand curled around her shoulder. Janesha was kneeling beside her, staring at her in concern. "It's okay," she said, rubbing the line between her shoulder and her neck and back again comfortingly. "He wasn't a good guy, petal. He was a liar, and a thief."

 _Was._ Past tense. "I just wish it didn't have to be _you_ that did it," Taylor said, unwinding herself from her foetal position and wrapping her arms around Janesha's neck.

Janesha returned the hug, allowing her friend to cry into her shoulder. "You once asked what the downside was to being in charge, petal. Now, you know." Unlike in her imagination, Janesha only gave her a few more seconds before helping her to her feet. "We need to keep going, sweetie," she said, her voice tinged with sympathy. "Unless you'd rather go home and be with your dad?"

Taylor immediately shook her head. As much as she wanted to do just that, Janesha needed her more. Her friend's moral compass was only just starting to develop, and it certainly wasn't strong enough to withstand these sorts of challenges without her support. "I'm okay," she lied, finding her own centre of balance. "So what was plan B?" The sooner they moved on from this spot, the happier she'd be.

Janesha looked around, and suddenly they were back in Taylor's lounge room once more.

"A little warning would be nice," she groused, frowning at her friend.

Janesha's hand went up in half-apology. "I know, but Scion's been listening in on us since we went looking for Eidolon and he kneecapped Eidolon at every turn. I don't want to tip my hand to him until I have to."

Taylor sniffed and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. "Okay, so what's the plan?"

"Cauldron is still harvesting divinity from the other celestial, which means there's crystals around here that haven't been connected to your people yet. The only reason I can possibly think of as to why the celestial didn't just cut the constructs loose in the first place was because that celest wanted to micromanage the power allocations. Stupid, if you ask me, but that actually works in our favour. All we have to do is find a crystal that doesn't have a mortal outline inside. Those are the ones that are still connected to the celestial we're looking for."

"And we can follow that, just like we followed the Endbringer ones to Eidolon."

"Exactly. But when we go out there, you can't say anything about it out loud. Scion can't read your mind so long as you're connected to me, which means he'll be left guessing until it's too late."

Taylor looked around the room. After everything that'd happened, it would've been so easy to just stay here and pretend it was a bad nightmare.

"You alright, petal?"

"I will be," Taylor said, nodding her head. "But in the meantime, let's do this."

They returned to the real world, at which point Janesha turned and began looking over each of the crystal constructs. Taylor turned the other way and did likewise.

It only took a few minutes of searching for Taylor to find what they were looking for. _Over here!_ she thought, as loudly as she could. Janesha suddenly appeared at her side.

"Nicely done, petal," she said, staring at the empty crystal. Her hand then reached out and her gloved fingers surrounded what Taylor now called the umbilical cord like a lifeline. Her other hand reached for Taylor. "Let's go say hello."

Together they realm-stepped once more, coming out on a walkway that led directly on to … Taylor blinked. She'd thought the crystalline forest was weird enough, but when Janesha had called it the 'flesh garden', she hadn't been kidding. As wide as the room was (and it was _huge!)_ the pink-grey grotesquery filled it from front to back as well. It looked like whatever it was had been trying to figure out how to grow a human being, but didn't quite have the hang of it. A thousand attempts had been made; arms, legs, hands, partial heads, and other body parts she didn't want to think about. It took all of two seconds for Taylor to realise the body parts were all the same, and they were all female. They all had piercing blue eyes, silver blonde hair and slender limbs. And they moved. The eyes blinked. The fingers and toes flexed like a sea of grass.

"Holy fuuuuck!"

The strangled whisper came from Janesha, and when Taylor looked, her friend had gone ghost white. Janesha then turned to Taylor, and for the first time, she saw genuine fear in her eyes. "This is next level messed up," she said.

Taylor wasn't quite sure what aspect had her friend so upset. As a shape shifter, she could literally match this mass limb for limb, so it couldn't be the physical representation, gross as it was. It had to be the mind, or what was left of it after Cauldron had been eating it—her—alive. Janesha's grip on her hand tightened. "Stay right beside me," she said.

* * *

 **Janesha**

* * *

Janesha's heart was getting ready to pound out of her chest. This form had not been chosen by choice. It was desperation. The mind inside was stripped bare, but the body had been kept alive, much like machines she'd seen in Earlafaol when the mortals there refused to acknowledge the loss of the soul. Never, ever, _ever_ had she _EVER_ thought she'd be looking at a celestial equivalent of that monstrosity.

If Scion was capable of doing this to a celest, he was capable of anything, and he really did need to be put down in the worst possible way. It also meant she had to strengthen her ties with what mattered to her in this realm. Already the cord that connected her to Danny and Taylor was celestially strong, but it could never be strong enough. Things could be broken. People could be broken. _By the Twin Notes of All Creation, that could just as easily be Taylor and Danny down there._ Just the thought of it had her squeezing her friend's hand and turning to put eyes on her, just to be certain she was there. "Stay right beside me," she said, barely able to stop herself from making it a mental command. She didn't want to think about the smoking crater she'd make of this world if anything happened to either Taylor or Danny.

Taylor squeezed her hand back. "We're here now," Taylor whispered. "You can fix it, right?"

Janesha felt her eyes go wide. Some of it, maybe. As a superior shifter, she could take stock of all the different versions of the woman the celest had been and recreate a body for her that matched it by discarding all the excess mass, but then what? She wasn't a healer, and the mind was gone…

Her mouth dropped into a wide O as the only solution became apparent to her. The only chance this celest had of any kind of recovery. But it would also mean the end of her vacation, and quite likely the end of this realm. Forever. Her eyes found Taylor again. "Petal, I'm not leaving you or your dad here," she said, meaning every word of it. _Fuck the eradication of Earth Bet at my hands._ _The second my family gets here, this whole realm'll be a smoking crater from border to border._ But she couldn't think about that. The mortals would be missed, but the life of the celestial being tortured took precedence. The best she could do at this point was to make sure both her friends had an exceptionally comfortable life in Mystal. Already, she applied tension to the cord that connected her to Danny and wrapped it several times around his waist in anticipation of heaving him to her when it became necessary. Either awake or asleep, her family were going to see that both these mortals had been claimed as hers explicitly, and as such they were hers. _Mine_. But the rest of the realm would burn. Just the thought of it and knowing how much that would upset her friends had tears welling in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, petal," she said, and before Taylor could stop her, she reached out her free hand and rolled it in a half-circle. "Columbine." She tensed as she spoke the name, fully expecting to see her Uncle Chance standing alongside her powerful cousin.

* * *

 **Contessa**

* * *

"What do you mean, she's _here_?" Fortuna towered over the cringing Clare. "How the fuck can she be _here_?" She spun and pointed one accusing finger at Dorian. "Did you open that fucking doorway?"

"What? No! Of course not!" Dorian blanched. "Why the living fuck would I do _that_?"

"She fucking realm-stepped here!" babbled Clare. "She used the fucking cords of the realm-damned dark crystals for guidance and fucking realm-stepped here!"

"Oh, for _fuck's_ sake!" Fortuna resisted the urge to tear her hair out. She'd known the little Mystallian cow would be trouble from the moment she'd shown up, but this was getting ridiculous. _Options … options … options …_ Just as she had before, Contessa internalised and began searching through her imagination for a workable solution.

Collapsing the chamber wouldn't do anything useful, and would alert Janesha to the fact that she was being observed (if she didn't already know). Opening a volcano under the whole base would be likewise useless. Direct confrontation was right out; Nassites didn't do things that way. Strike from the shadows and fade away; that was their thing.

"We're going to have to cut our losses here," she said crisply, returning to the real world. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to slide the seclusion ring from her finger.

 _"She just bloodlinked to Earlafaol!"_

Clare's screeched warning came just in time; Fortuna snatched her fingers away from the ring as if it were poisoned. "Fuck!" she swore, swivelling to Dorian. "Out of the realm, _now_!"

There was only one person in Earlafaol whom celestials all over the Known Reams reached out for help from, and she also happened to be the reason Abaddon had been in this realm-forsaken hole of a realm doing dry runs in the first place. They had to get as far away from the base as possible, because if she came here, she never, ever travelled alone. Her personal guards accompanied her everywhere. Even the farthest reaches of the realm would not be enough; they had to go over the border and leave the universe altogether.

Dorian nodded, and opened a doorway. They tumbled through into a grimy alleyway, the doorway snapping shut behind them. Fortuna scrambled to her feet and looked around. At the mouth of the alley, people walked back and forth, apparently unaware of their presence. She took note of the clothing—rough-spun, crudely dyed—and altered her own apparel to match. Dorian and Clare were already doing the same.

"Where are we?" she asked, leading the way to the entrance of the alleyway. Several of the passers-by had small knives on their belts, and she made sure to add one to her own, drawing mass from the ground to do so.

"Feral mortal world just outside the realm border," Dorian said in an undertone. "They think the horse and cart is the height of technology, here. What do we do now?"

Right now, they had to keep a supremely low profile. There was nothing else they could do. If Janesha went with her cousin to Earlafaol, it was all over for them. "Nothing." She pitched her voice to make sure he understood her perfectly. "We keep our fucking heads down until we're absolutely certain that 'faolian bitch's gone." Turning to Clare, she fixed her eyes on the grimy rag he'd put in place over his empty eye-sockets. "Talk to me."

Clare licked his lips nervously. "Well …"

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

"I'm so sorry, petal," Janesha wept, but before she could ask what she meant by that, her friend raised her hand and called out a name. "Columbine."

Taylor scrambled to remember where she knew that name from, and why calling out to her would bring her friend to such a state. Was she an enemy? Was she dangerous? No—NO! She remembered! Lady Col was the one whose father was an overprotective jerk and who—who _OMIGOD!_ She ruled that whole other Earth.

Janesha still had her hand raised as that deduction fell into place, and a thin, perfectly manicured hand appeared entwined in it as if in a handshake. But then another hand of darker skin—somewhere between hers and Janesha's—slipped into Janesha's other hand and a very petite human woman with short brown hair and light brown eyes stepped into the room. She held herself well for someone so slight and the militant look in her eyes as she swept her gaze across everything, had Taylor swallowing hard. Surely this wasn't the Cousin Columbine that her friend said everyone loved because she was such a sweetheart. The shorter woman then looked back over her shoulder in the direction she'd come from and nodded once before stepping completely out of the way. _A guard,_ Taylor realised. _She has to be a guard._

That thought was confirmed when the original well-manicured hand grew into an arm as more and more of her appeared on the walkway, until finally a tall woman who looked as if she'd just stepped off the cover of a magazine or a supermodel runway stood before them. Her ebony hair was glossy and reached almost to the floor with a soft wave through it. Like Taylor, her skin had the slightest dusting of pale ivory pigment. Her lips were bright red, her cheeks were high and shapely, and the strapless electric blue dress that rolled to the ground was exquisite. But the most eye-popping addition to her ensemble was the albino vervet monkey with the most delicate set of butterfly wings she had ever seen perched on the woman's left shoulder; holding the back of the woman's head for support. Like the guard, it too looked around as if making an intelligent observation of their surroundings.

As gently as any mother, the stranger quickly wrapped Janesha up in a heartfelt hug. "Shhhh," she crooned, stroking Janesha's hair while Janesha blubbered against her throat like a child. "It is alright, sweetheart. I am here now. Everything is going to be fine."

Janesha's arms snaked around the woman's waist. "I thought for sure Uncle Chance would be there with you," she babbled. "And that he'd see what was going on here and lose it … and …"

The new-comer shushed her again and pressed those rich red lips into her hair in comfort, but something told Taylor that was being done more for her sake than Janesha's. "He definitely tried, sweetheart, but something told me to say no."

Janesha sniffed and pulled away. "I knew it." She shook her head and tapped the side of her head. "Even in here, I knew he'd do that. It's why I didn't contact anyone, because I knew he'd …"

The woman placed a silencing finger on Janesha's lips and smiled serenely. "You should not blame the family for being worried about you, especially when you are unestablished and outside the Known Realms. You know the rules…"

"Until you're established in another pantheon, touch base with home at least once a day to let the family know where you are," Janesha parroted sulkily. "I know, I know."

The woman chuckled lightly and lifted her eyes to meet Taylor's. They were black, with the finest flecks of bright gold in the irises. "Hello, Taylor. It is a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart." With one hand still across Janesha's shoulders, she reached out with the other towards Taylor as she spoke.

The fact that she knew her name was the least surprising thing to Taylor. They were celestial. Knowing things they weren't told was literally in their DNA. But what was she supposed to do, now that this woman was talking to her. Like, seriously, what do you do? The woman was a goddess who ruled more galaxies than Taylor believed existed. Was she supposed to curtsey? Or shake her hand? Or slide across the ground like a snake? What?

Columbine's smile reached all the way to her eyes, making the gold sparkle. Then she rolled her outstretched hand palm upwards. "Perhaps it would be easier if you called me Professor Nascerdios," she suggested.

"You're a—a professor?" Could this get any weirder? Like _really_? Despite this, Taylor placed her hand on the woman's and watched as her fingers were enveloped.

"Medicine," she said, without naming a specific branch. Probably because as a goddess, she was a professor in all of them and then some. "I took a break from it for a little while, but once it became apparent that having so many of my father's family visiting me at once had the women of my realm demanding their fair share of things from the men, I started up a medical college in Pennsylvania for them. I have been working in medicine one way or another ever since."

"Professor Nascerdios," Taylor repeated, trying not to look too deeply into that explanation in case her brain decided to melt. "So can you like … help her?" Taylor gestured at the creature below them, no longer seeing her as an 'it'.

The professor followed her hand, and immediately became all business. "Edeena," she said, her eyebrows arching sadly as she took in the grotesque form below. "What _have_ they done to you, baby?"

"You know her, cuz?" Janesha asked. At some point during their discussion, she must've done one of those stimulation wave things, because there was not a hair out of place, nor a hint of red around her eyes.

"Oh, yes," Professor Nascerdios replied, stepping closer to the edge of the walkway. "Their father brought them to me when they were just infants to be raised. I even have an imprint of her mind from just before she left Earlafaol with her twin brother." She paused for a moment, then added, "But it seems her essence has been scattered and is currently residing in a variety of mortal hosts." She turned to both Janesha and Taylor and said, "You are going to have to give me a moment, ladies. Some of those using her essence are in non-survivable situations and that needs to be rectified before I extract her essence from them."

"You can do that?" Taylor gasped.

"I will right what was made wrong," Columbine answered. "Without any loss of life."

Taylor looked at Janesha; who grinned like a loon and shrugged. "Cousin Col," she said, as if that explained everything.

* * *

End of Part Seventeen


	19. Chapter 18

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Eighteen: Cleanup

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and co-written by Karen Buckeridge, author of **Ties That Bind** and **The Long Way Home** (in production).]_

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

Although Janesha's cousin Columbine was only the second celestial Taylor had ever met (if she didn't count Scion, who she'd only seen on TV, and 'Edeena', who looked like nothing on Earth) she could already see some fundamental differences between them in terms of attitude. Janesha walked and talked like she owned _everything_ ; as if she were merely allowing the mortals to use the world for a while. (Which, given what Taylor knew about celestials, was more or less the unvarnished truth.) By contrast, apart from the butterfly-winged monkey on her shoulder and her supermodel looks, Professor Nascerdios could be someone Taylor passed on the street with nothing more than an envious glance at the stunning sweep of her hair. In fact, they both possessed flawless complexions and hairstyles, like they'd just stepped out of a beautician's shop just moments before. She knew why that was, of course; stimulation waves were something she was now aware of. Still, it was monumentally unfair.

The main thing that told her how special Professor Nascerdios was … was the fact that Janesha had collapsed sobbing into the supernaturally beautiful woman's arms. This was _Janesha,_ the most thoroughly self-contained person Taylor knew. Or rather, the most emotionally aloof person Taylor knew. Angry, she could do, and amusement. But she just didn't do _needy._ Not until now, anyway. The few times she'd drawn comfort from Taylor's presence were nothing compared to the blubbering mess she'd become now that her older cousin was here.

Reluctantly, she allowed herself to think about the _third_ aspect to the situation. Not half an hour previously, she'd been forced to beg on her knees for the welfare of Earth Bet. Had she not thrown her all into the effort, she had no doubt that the planet would now be a blasted ruin, all its people except for herself and her father dead. Everyone she'd ever met, snuffed out without even knowing why or how. And while there were some people she had little fellow-feeling for, there were countless more who simply didn't deserve that sort of fate.

Janesha had acceded to her heartfelt pleas, sparing Taylor's world from the imminent threat of annihilation, not long before she'd lost patience with Eidolon and executed him outright. Recalling Janesha's descriptions of Hell and the Damned, Taylor shuddered to think of the torments Eidolon would be suffering once he arrived there.

But once Janesha had seen Edeena, all bets were off. She'd called on her family; from her words before she performed the blood-link, she fully expected Earth Bet to be destroyed by whoever showed up. The fact that Professor Nascerdios seemed to have no intentions in this regard didn't actually change the point that Janesha had opened Earth Bet up to destruction a _second_ time without giving Taylor anything like a direct warning.

 _Her tears of relief were for you, sweetheart,_ the soft voice whispered through her mind, causing her to gasp. _Ssshh,_ it hushed gently, in the same crooning manner that had comforted Janesha. _I am not a mind reader, Taylor. I am a telepath who is exceptionally good at reading body language and the emotions behind it. For me to hear what you are thinking, you must think it while_ wanting _me to hear it._ The professor hadn't moved from where she stood alongside Janesha. Not to blink. Not to twitch.

 _She contacted you, believing it would be the end of my world._ Taylor couldn't help the resentment that bubbled to life inside of her.

 _And it devastated her. As I said, sweetheart. Her tears were not for herself. They were in relief for you. To know that you would retain your beloved world and not hate her for having to do this._

 _She could've_ told _me._

 _Do you believe that would have changed the outcome?_

 _We could've at least discussed it. I mean, I know celestials are special and all, but at the end of the day it's just one life versus the billions of mortals on my world._

There was a pregnant pause before the professor sent, _You are an intelligent young lady, Taylor Hebert. Would you mind if I posed you a question?_

Taylor thought that had to be the weirdest thing ever. A goddess, who was powerful enough to make Janesha bawl like a baby and rule a universe in its entirety, was _asking_ if it was alright to ask her a question. _I guess ..._

 _If three children and their mother were in a single-car accident and only one team of paramedics came upon them, who do you think they would attempt to save first?_

Taylor gave the question some thought. _The mother would want her kids saved._

 _Yes, she would. But that was not the question I asked you, Taylor. Who would those paramedics put most of their endeavour into saving?_

 _The kids have their whole lives ahead of them, and the mother would want the kids to live. So I'd say the kids first, and the mother last._

 _And you would be wrong, sweetheart. The paramedics would do everything they could to save the mother first because they would have no idea how many other children that mother may have elsewhere, whose lives depend on her. What if she had five other children at home? What if she were a foster mother with dozens of children depending on her. What if she was a surgeon who was meant to save dozens of people in the coming days? Because none of these factors are known, they will stabilise the children as best as they can until their colleagues arrive, but their primary focus will remain on the mother, even if it costs the lives of the three other children in the car._

Taylor didn't like what she was implying, though her point was loud and clear. Since Janesha didn't know how many worlds (or galaxies) were tied to this damaged celestial, the loss of a single world to bring in the celestial equivalent of the paramedics was the only decision Janesha could make. _Powerful beings make powerful decisions_.

Her eyes found her friend, who was staring back at her with both eyebrows arched upwards in concern.

 _I thought you were seeing to the safety of the people who had her essence?_

Although she still hadn't moved until then, the very corners of the professor's lips lifted into a smile that was both warm and indulgent. _I am also very good at multi-tasking_.

* * *

 **Washington, DC  
** **PRT Department 24**

* * *

Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown sat at her desk, performing the most basic (and perhaps most annoying) function of her job; dealing with paperwork. Despite occasional efforts to make things otherwise, she still required a physical inbox and outbox on her desk. Far too often for her liking, paper documents ended up in the former, to be scrutinised and (usually) signed, then placed in the latter.

The only saving grace in the whole situation was the fact that she didn't have to spend long minutes absorbing all the subtle details in any one document. One lightning-fast appraisal was all she required before making her decision. In the current case, the document had definitely needed the appraisal. She had already paused twice to pen in acerbic comments into the margin. This was not going to be signed until the idiot who'd drafted it learned to do basic fact-checking. With a barely contained sigh, she turned to the last page, then jerked her hand back at a sudden sting.

 _What the hell was that?_ Disbelievingly, she stared at her fingertip, where a tiny red mark was showing. She touched her tongue to it and tasted blood. _That's a papercut. How can that be a papercut?_ She glared suspiciously at the document; it looked like paper and felt like paper, but that was no guarantee. Cautiously, she lifted the sheet and ripped it slightly. It had all the texture of tearing paper.

 _All right,_ she told herself, trying to go through all the possibilities of what it could mean. She knew of literally no substance on Earth, able to mimic paper or otherwise, that could actually harm her. But now another thing was worrying her. She'd been trying to reason through the problem with her usual razor-sharp analysis, but the mental speed to which she was accustomed continued to elude her. It was like she was wading through mud from one conclusion to another.

Fear began to worm itself into her brain. _I just suffered a papercut, and I can't think as fast as normal. What's happening to me? Is someone mentally affecting me, making me think I've lost my powers? Well, that's easy to check._

Standing up, she stepped away from the desk and exerted her flight; just enough to levitate off the floor and assuage her worries.

Nothing happened. The ceiling was getting no closer, and the floor still pressed up against the soles of her sensible shoes.

 _Okay, I have to assume that either I've lost my powers or I'm suffering a persistent hallucination that's making me_ think _I've lost my powers._ She tried to figure out who could've done such a thing but again, her mental faculties were moving slower than tar trickling downhill. _This is officially a crisis. I need to talk to an expert._ Heading over to the office door, she locked it, then returned to the desk and pressed her intercom button. "Do not disturb me for the next half-hour. I'm in conference."

 _"Yes, ma'am,"_ replied her secretary; a bright young up-and-coming agent. _"Thirty minutes."_

Confident now that nobody would barge into her office unexpectedly, she released the button and spoke out loud. "Doorway to Cauldron base."

No Doorway appeared. Her heart rate accelerated and she sagged against the desk. _We're under attack! We must be. They've nullified my powers, and neutralised Doormaker or Clairvoyant, or even both of them. How far does it spread? Is it Scion? Is he moving against us?_

At that moment, her phone rang.

* * *

 **New York City  
** **Legend**

* * *

Everyone was out of the tenement building, according to the fire crews, but the flames were still leaping high into the air and embers were threatening all the structures around it. Legend hovered in midair, considering how to deal with the problem.

The simplest solutions, he decided, were the most useful ones. Raising his hands, he sent out multiple beams of what the news called his 'lasers', though he was fully aware they were nothing of the sort. These circled around the building and struck from multiple angles, sucking the heat away from the hottest parts of the fire. Within seconds, the flames were dying away as their source fizzled to nothing. He circled the building, observing the effect of his power; or at least, he began to.

 _I should land._

It wasn't a voice in his head, or even an overwhelming compulsion. He simply … wanted to land. Landing was a good idea. At the very least, he could regroup with the first responders just to make sure everything on the ground was going according to plan.

Gliding in to the nearest tall building where he could still observe the tenement from, he touched down lightly on the roof. Raising his hand, he sent his power outward to complete the job …

… that is, he sent his power outward …

… sent …

 _Why is my power not working?_ Frowning, he stared at his right hand, then tried with his left. The same result (or rather, lack of result) took place. _Have I burned it out?_ He knew all too well how David's powers were declining. It wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that his were, also. _This could be problematic._ Instinctively, he tried to take off, only to perform a little hop that barely lifted him an inch from the roof. The lighter-than-air sensation utterly failed to take hold.

Feeling a little panicky now, he tried to force a transition to his energy state. Nothing happened.

Something was very, very wrong. He knew what he had to do. But first, he had something _else_ he had to do, something he'd made himself promise to do in a situation such as this. Fumbling his phone from its pouch on his belt, he hit '1' on speed-dial.

 _"Hello?"_

"Arthur," he said, letting out a tiny sigh of relief. At least _that_ part of his life was still normal. "Hey. I just wanted to touch base … and … make sure everything's all right."

 _"Everything's okay with me."_ Arthur, with instincts honed from years of marriage, sounded slightly suspicious. _"What's wrong? You're worried."_

"It might be nothing, love," Legend told him. "I'm just suffering a little powers problem at the moment and I always promised myself that if anything outside the norm happened, I'd touch base with home." He sighed, feeling a little foolish for having frightened his husband. He stared at the fire that was close to putting itself out. "So, now that I have, I guess I just wanted you to know that I love you and if everything goes according to plan, I should be home later for dinner, okay?"

 _"I'm making dumplings, with extra sour Sweet and Sour sauce. And there's a Die Hard marathon on channel one-thirty-five tonight."_

Legend's favourite food, with Arthur's favourite movie series. The simple domesticity of it made him smile wistfully. "Sounds good."

 _"Okay, then. I love you too. See you soon."_

Legend ended the call, then dialled another number. It took one ring before the call went through.

 _"Hello?"_ It was Rebecca's voice, but not the Rebecca he knew. This one sounded near to panic. That wasn't good at all.

"It's me," he said. As he spoke, he tried absently to generate a power effect with his hand. Nothing happened. He was getting sick of nothing happening. "I have a distinct problem. Are you suffering the same problem?"

 _"If you're feeling absolutely powerless then yes, I'm suffering the same problem. I've also tried getting through to base, but the door won't open."_ She sounded severely rattled; in fact, this was the most fear he'd ever heard in her voice, and that included each and every Endbringer attack, as well as the time she'd lost an eye to the Siberian.

Not that he blamed her; Cauldron's combination of Doormaker and the Clairvoyant was a tremendous force multiplier, and the Triumvirate had come to rely implicitly on them, as well as Contessa's insights. Stripped of those as well as his powers, he was just an ordinary person in far over his head.

 _How far does this go?_ He looked helplessly around the New York skyline. _What does it mean?_ "What do we do now?" he asked out loud.

She was trying to sound like she was in control again, but the quaver in her voice said otherwise. _"Our best bet is to sit tight and hope that C can get back in contact with us. I'll keep trying that. You call David, and see if he's suffering the same problem."_

"I'll do that." With a sense of relief—it was _something_ to do—he ended the call and hit speed-dial for Eidolon's number.

 _"We are unable to connect your call at this time. Please call back later."_

He stared at the phone. _What's going on with **that**?_

* * *

 **Brockton Bay  
** **Assault**

* * *

Ethan had to pull up hard. As they often did to unwind after a long, and sometimes boring shift, he and his wife would cut loose by racing across Brockton Bay, to a point near home. The run had started just like any other, with a lot of trash-talk and taunts of 'loser does the dishes for a week'. She'd caught him on the back foot by blurring off into the distance before he was fully ready, and he'd only just overtaken her in the last few seconds.

Turning to look over his shoulder and gloat, he realised she had dropped out of her super-speed early and he had in fact, lost her.

He cautiously retraced his steps, searching for the moment when she would leap out at him from behind something. It wasn't as if she hadn't done it before. But something in the back of his mind was telling him this was off. Way off.

That thought was confirmed when he found her on her hands and knees with her head bowed, panting as if she couldn't draw in oxygen fast enough. "Puppy!" he cried, and was at her side in a heartbeat. "What happened?"

The look of sheer terror on her face as she lifted her eyes to his sent his own heart-rate skyrocketing. "I. Don't. Know," she panted, swallowing between words. "I ran. Out of power. Way before. I normally do."

Ethan could attest to this. Fully charged, she could keep her speed up for ninety seconds, and she'd been going for less than thirty. "Okay, breathe deeply, puppy. You know the drill. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Clear your thoughts. Get your heart rate back under control." He wasn't mentioning his own pounding pulse, though when he followed his own advice to help her find her rhythm, it did help to bring it down.

A few minutes later, she sat back on her haunches with her hands on her hips. "What was that all about?" she demanded, as if he had any clue.

"Puppy, I was already three blocks ahead of you when I realised you'd dropped out of the race. What do _you_ think happened?"

Instead of answering, she held up a finger and closed her eyes. Tension built through her body just like it always did when she was banking power, but the lines on her costume failed to start glowing as they should have. Her eyes opened again. "It's gone," she said, staring at her hands which she clenched and unclenched into fists.

It took a moment for Ethan to realise what she meant, and when he did, he swallowed hard. "Maybe … it's taken a holiday?" he offered hesitantly. But that didn't make sense. Why would her power be gone, when tapping his toe against a discarded soda can had it ricocheting down the street like an insane pinball. Had someone targeted her? And if so, who? How? And most importantly, _why_?

He looked around and saw a nearby bench. "Honey, why don't you sit on that bench, and get your breath back. I'll put in a call to the PRT and get a van here to pick us up."

"I don't want them to see me like this," she said illogically. "Can you run home and get me some clothes? Maybe a good night's sleep will fix whatever this is."

He shook his head, even as he took out his phone. "No way am I moving from your side. Whatever this is, we're facing it together, and I'm not taking one step away from you until you're in a safe place."

He watched her try to argue with his reasoning, but she couldn't muster up the words. For the first time since he'd met her, her lips pinched apprehensively. Her right hand rubbed her left upper arm as she searched the area around them, and he realised she too, was looking for the mystery attacker to show him or herself, now that she was at her most vulnerable.

He led her over to the bench and sat her down. Turning his phone on, he hit the speed-dial labelled PRETENTIOUS RANDOM TODDLERS. All the while, his eyes never stopped moving, scanning their surroundings for the slightest hint of danger. If anyone threatened his wife, the next soda can would go _through_ them.

 _"PRT console. Assault, you're supposed to be off-duty. What's the issue?"_ The duty officer's voice was bored.

"We have a Shadow Stalker situation," he said tersely. "We need pickup at this location, stat. Do you copy?"

All trace of boredom had left the man's voice when he answered. " _I copy Sierra-Sierra situation, Assault. Dispatching a van immediately. Also diverting backup to your location. Hold tight; the cavalry is on the way. Do not hang up. I say again, do not hang up._ "

"Holding tight." Assault replied. Sliding the phone, still on the line, back into his pouch, he put his hand on his wife's shoulder. "Help is on the way, babe. We'll get this sorted out. You'll be back on your feet in no time."

Reaching up, she put her hand on his. "I hope so."

"I know so." But as he scanned his surroundings for the tenth time, he wished he could feel as certain as he sounded.

* * *

 **New York City  
** **Trickster**

* * *

"Okay," Francis said, tapping an unlit cigarette on the table. He wanted to light it and take a deep puff, but the others all gave him dirty looks when he smoked inside, so he refrained for the moment. "It looks like we're in the clear for the moment. The heat should die down in a week or so …"

"And then we're moving on, out of the city." That was Luke, his broad features set in a determined scowl. "That last job was far too close. How the hell were we meant to know Legend was in the area? And we do _not_ want him following us back to base."

"You mean, you don't want him trying to capture Noelle and generating an evil twin, right?" Francis glared at him. "Say what you mean."

"He's got a point," Jess said. "It's getting harder and harder to keep those things contained."

"I don't see _you_ stepping up to save the day when it happens," Cody sniped from across the table. "Either of you." His gaze cut from Jess to Marissa and back again. "It's always me and Krouse and Luke doing all the heavy lifting."

"That's not fair!" shouted Marissa, sounding near to tears. "You _know_ how hot my suns get! One wrong move, and I'll burn down a city block or two. We were just lucky I only set fire to _one_ building, this time!"

"And I take time to build my creatures," Jess added, gripping the arms of her wheelchair and glowering at Cody in her turn. "So you can shove your 'heavy lifting' up your ass. Twice, even."

"Guys, guys, can we not fight?" Oliver said, returning from the front door with a couple of steaming pizza boxes in his hands. He headed through into the kitchen, where they kept the paper plates.

A moment later, everything _changed._

Francis was still sitting on a chair, but it was a different chair. The table was different, the wallpaper was different, and even the shape of the _room_ was different. From the kitchen, he heard a yelp of alarm from Oliver.

He launched to his feet, searching the room for answers. While he was used to his surroundings shifting rapidly, he was usually the author of such changes. And the _last_ time they'd been moved somewhere against their will …

"Oh, shit," Luke whispered, his face white. "She did it again, didn't she?"

Francis did not have to ask who Luke meant by 'she'. The Simurgh had featured in their nightmares more than once over the years, and even now he suffered the occasional relapse, waking up sweating and shaking.

"Francis!" Before the shift, Noelle had been upstairs in the main bedroom, but now her voice was coming from down the corridor. "You have to come see this!"

He didn't hesitate for a second. Whatever was going on, it had to be scary for Noelle. She was isolated enough as it was; right now, she needed him. He took off in the direction of her voice.

"Be careful!" shouted Jess from behind him. "You know what happens if you touch her!"

"Like I can forget!" Francis had undergone a very bad time the first time Noelle's cloning ability had manifested itself. He'd learned the hard way that touching her led to disaster, no matter how careful they were. But he also knew that _she_ knew the consequences of careless contact. Also, of all the reactions she'd had toward new developments in her condition, he'd never heard her express _excitement_ before.

Stopping at the doorway, he checked to make sure he wasn't about to run headlong into her. By now, her lower body sported several large legs, and she'd become the size of a sofa. This was why she'd had the largest bedroom, although the bed had had to be demolished and moved out. Noelle tended to destroy them, so she usually slept on a mattress on the floor, with a sheet over her.

It turned out to be a bedroom, but one that seemed oddly familiar. Noelle was standing at the window, the sheet wrapped around her lower body. There was something strange about that, too, but his head was too full of potential danger to follow any of these clues up.

It took him a moment to parse the expression on her face. It was somewhere between 'stunned' and 'giddy' with a side-order of 'delirious'. "What's going on—" he began, before he saw something else. Specifically, her profile under the sheet she'd wrapped around herself. A profile that she hadn't boasted for a year or more. "What the hell? You're _you_ again? How …?"

"I don't know." Suddenly, she was in his arms, her cheek pressed warm against his. Automatically, he began to pull back; some reflexes were too strong to ignore. But no clones appeared. Even the subtle dragging effect of her power was absent. "I'm back to normal." Her voice was soft in his ear. "I'm _me._ But that's not all."

"What?" he asked, his senses reeling from the sensation of _holding_ her again, after so long. "What's going on?"

"Don't you recognize this room?" she asked.

He blinked and looked around. And just like a kaleidoscope dropping into a familiar pattern, the picture clicked for him. Up until now, he'd been thinking 'strange location we've been dropped into' but familiar details were now impressing themselves on him. "Holy shit! Is this your bedroom?"

It was, he realized. He was back in her parents' apartment, in Madison. Not the Madison they'd fled from, but the Madison in Earth Aleph. As he stared around the room, more and more details jumped out at him. A lot of the posters and knick-knacks had been stored away, which was why he hadn't twigged at first, but now the very shape of the room was impressing itself on his mind.

Not taking his arm from around Noelle, he headed for the window. Outside was the familiar vista of Madison, Wisconsin. The one that had never suffered from the Simurgh attack. Behind him, he heard the others coming to the doorway.

"Fuck!"

"Stop her!"

"Stop _him!"_

He half-turned his head; Cody, Luke and Marissa stood there, staring in horror. They'd all seen what happened when he'd done this the last time; the running battle with the clones had half-destroyed the small town, and necessitated that they move far and fast to avoid the repercussions of their actions.

"It's all right," Noelle said, not letting him go. "I've lost my powers. They're _gone._ " Reaching down, she pulled the sheet up a little, and wiggled her bare foot. "My legs are normal again."

"But how?" asked Marissa, taking a step forward. "Powers don't just vanish like that. Trust me, I've tried to make that happen."

"Uh … shit." That was Cody. "I, uh, I think I've lost mine, too."

"Now that you mention it …" Luke sounded uncertain. "I haven't got the vector lines in the back of my head anymore. I thought it was the excitement of the moment."

Everyone looked at Marissa. She shook her head and put her hands on her hips. "Well, don't look at _me_. I'm not going to try to make a sun in here. What if I succeed?"

Francis stared at her. She was standing next to Cody. They were close enough in size to swap with nobody getting hurt. He'd done this a thousand times before, or so it felt. With just a little concentration, he would feel the chime that signalled a viable link.

No chime came. He pushed it harder. Still no chime. With a supreme effort, he threw his entire will into brute-forcing the swap.

Nothing happened. Slowly, he let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding. "I think you've lost your powers, too," he said quietly. "I think we all have. How, I have no idea. I'm just gonna thank God for the miracle and take it as it is."

Jess showed up with Oliver behind her; the wheelchair-bound girl showed little scruple in the way she muscled her way through the pack. Her snort was full of her usual cynicism. "You've never been the religious type, Krouse."

"Maybe it's time I started," he said lightly, then gestured toward Oliver. "Check it out."

"What?" asked the pudgy guy, his appearance now reverted to the pre-idealised version they'd known before all this started. "Why are you all looking at me? And why is Francis hugging Noelle? And why aren't we all drowning in clones by now?"

"I'll let you guys explain," Francis decided. "In the loungeroom." He waved them off, and headed across the room to the door. They didn't argue as he pushed it closed and turned back to the love of his life. "You and me have got some serious catching up to do, little lady," he said, with a predatory grin.

Noelle gave a throaty chuckle and let the sheet slide to the floor. "Oh, do we ever."

* * *

 **Faultline's Crew  
** **Faultline**

* * *

Running a nightclub was one thing. Running a nightclub while also managing a mercenary team of capes on the side was quite another. This was mildly complicated by the fact that she and her Crew had to keep a low profile in Brockton Bay, to reduce the chance that the local authorities would suddenly 'notice' that a bunch of villains were resident in Palanquin, Brockton Bay's most happening night spot. So far they hadn't, and Melanie was willing to help maintain that record by not giving them the slightest excuse to bust her.

Which was why she kept the books (at least those belonging to the nightclub side of things) spotlessly clean, and paid her fair share of taxes when the time came. A few extra 'taxes' paid under the table to certain city councilmen assisted in keeping her name away from unfriendly official attention. Those transactions didn't appear in any book that might see the light of day, but they were just as important as the other type, if not more so.

She was elbow-deep in the financial aspects of the business when her office door was pushed open. Spitfire came in first, followed by a man Melanie had never met before. Medium height, a little on the heavy side, and almost completely bald. He was also wearing a coat that would've suited someone three sizes larger.

"What the hell's going on here?" she snapped. "Who is this man?"

"Newter's disappeared!" Spitfire sounded upset. "This is Gregor. He says he's lost his powers."

"It is true." Gregor, if it was him, held his hands out, palms up. "My slime no longer generates. I was hanging out with Newter and he took on a thoughtful expression. Then he climbed down off the wall. I thought he was getting a drink, but between one step and the next, he vanished."

"Well, shit." Melanie ran her hands through her hair. Vanishing without a trace was not in Newter's usual repertoire of tricks, but they had to cover all the bases. "Search the building, top to bottom. I'll start checking out PHO, just in case someone managed to teleport him out for some reason. People who pull off a slick move like that, they nearly always end up bragging about it."

"Got it. Let's go." Spitfire left, taking Gregor with her.

Melanie shook her head and closed down the accounting program, then she opened up PHO. Calling up the search bar, she typed in the keywords 'vanish', 'Case 53' and 'Newter' then hit Enter.

A second later, a series of titles started scrolling over the search area. The top one caught her eye: **Case 53s vanishing?** She clicked on it, and began to read.

After half a dozen posts with much the same content—Case 53s just popping out of existence, with no other pattern to it—she pushed back from the laptop and stared at the ceiling. _Okay, what's going on?_ _Why didn't Gregor vanish? Why did he just lose his powers?_

If she could figure that one out, she knew, she'd have a handle on what was going on.

* * *

 **Somewhere in America  
** **Mama Mathers**

* * *

"Oh, shit."

Christine had only whispered the word, but Elijah looked around curiously anyway. "What's the matter, Mama?"

"Nothing," she lied smoothly, all the while frantically trying to reconnect to her vast spider-web of contacts. Nothing happened. Not even Elijah, who was right there looking at her from behind his customary sunglasses, registered on her special senses. She couldn't see through his eyes. She couldn't see through _anyone's_ eyes but her own.

 _Maybe it's just the senses._

Experimentally, she tried to turn off Elijah's sight. He didn't react to that, or to the illusion of Behemoth bursting from the earth in front of him.

 _I've lost my powers. Oh, shit._

This put her in an extremely dicey position. She had used her abilities liberally to attain and maintain her position of power within the Fallen. Nobody crossed her, because everyone who had a reason to do so was already affected by her power. Or they had been, up until about thirty seconds ago.

But once they discovered that she was once more normal … things would change. And not for the better. People like the Fallen tended to be vindictive, once someone who had lorded it over them was brought to their knees. Even if she survived the experience, she would be relegated to being one of the breeders; not a person of influence and power.

 _Fuck that._

"I just remembered something I have to do," she extemporised, getting to her feet. "I'll be back shortly."

"All right, Mama." Elijah turned back to watching the TV.

She wasn't sure why she'd made sure to always have a car that was fuelled and ready to go on hand. Perhaps it was her version of a 'bug-out bag' in case someone she couldn't influence came to attack the compound. Dragon, for instance. A remote-controlled suit could crush her before the operator ever saw her.

Whatever the reason, it suited her purposes admirably right now. She strolled over to the car, pulled the keys from her pocket, and got in. People were walking to and fro, some glancing curiously at her. She waved vaguely— _don't bother me now_ —and they hurriedly looked away. Starting the car, she put it in gear and drove away. Out of the compound.

Away from the remains of her life.

 _Okay, what the fuck do I do now?_

Her hands tightened on the wheel. _I find out why I lost my powers, and I go and get them back._

There was no other option, really. She'd had the world at her fingertips. She wanted it back.

* * *

 **A Small Town in Oregon, Current Population Nine  
** **Slaughterhouse Nine  
** **Jack Slash**

* * *

"Well, this is different," Jack mused. "How long has it been since they last sent the National Guard against us?"

"Long enough that they forgot what we did to them last time?" suggested Crawler, laughing out of several of his mouths.

Jack smiled and spun the knife in his hand, making the blade glitter in the weak sunlight. "Well, it's about time we reminded them. Go, have fun. Hatchet Face, stay close by to keep any heroes honest. Everyone else, you know what to do."

"Make some explosions and fire, Crawls," Burnscar called out.

"You got it!" bellowed the pitch-black monstrosity over what passed for his shoulder.

Winter sighed and checked the chamber on the assault rifle she carried. "First I stop their bullets, then I stop their hearts." She sounded positively bored with the whole idea. This had been an ongoing problem since Crimson had gotten himself killed.

"Leave some of 'em alive for me, huh?" Bonesaw was jiggling with excitement. "I haven't had anyone to play with in _ages_." She looked down from where she was riding on the Siberian's shoulders. "And you can help!"

Shatterbird, wearing an ornate flared creation of stained glass, snorted. "You got first pick of everyone in town. That was three days ago."

"Yeah, like I said. Ages." Bonesaw looked over at Jack. "Can I have some, Mr Jack? Huh? Can I?"

Jack smiled indulgently. "Of course, poppet. Anything your heart desires."

Shatterbird suddenly took off, accelerating upwards. "Time I showed these fools what true …" And then her words just stopped.

The abrupt interruption had Jack looking upwards, and the concerned expression on her face as she surveyed the scene alarmed him. "What's going on, Shatterbird?"

"We need to retreat," she declared, dropping only a few feet in the air so she didn't have to shout. "I mean, like right now."

"What? Why?"

"Now, Jack. Right _now_!" To prove the sincerity of her claim, Shatterbird twisted in mid-air and took off in the opposite direction to the National Guard contingent.

Jack stared dumbfoundedly at Mannequin, who'd popped blades from his forearms and set them to spin. The gleaming metal humanoid carapace (for a given definition of 'humanoid') shrugged its shoulders elaborately.

Still at a loss for words, Jack looked between the last spot in the sky where he'd seen Shatterbird, and the advancing troops. "If she doesn't have a good reason for this, I'll kill her myself," he promised, pocketing one of his knives to free a hand. He then lifted his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle, one he'd ensured every member of the Slaughterhouse Nine knew, even though he'd had never had to use it before now. The signal for retreat. In the distance, he saw Hatchet Face and Crawler turn to him, their faces mirroring his own astonishment.

There was a thud beside him, and Bonesaw let out a yelp of pain. He looked around to see her climbing to her feet, rubbing her butt. "That _hurt,_ " grumbled the pint-sized biotinker. "Where'd she go?"

"I don't know," Jack said slowly. "Where _did_ she go?" The presence of the Siberian was an integral part of his plan to confront the National Guard; without her, he and his poppet were horribly vulnerable.

"Should we run?" suggested Burnscar. "I think we should run."

"I think so, too."

* * *

Shatterbird watched her team scramble for cover from a distant hilltop. She had no idea why she'd had the sudden impulse to fly away from danger, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it was her defection which caused the first retreat that the Slaughterhouse Nine had ever pulled _before_ engaging the enemy. Powerless, she stood in a ring of shards of glass that stubbornly refused to move an inch, no matter how furiously she hummed in the back of her throat.

At that point, she knew she couldn't return to the Nine. She literally had nothing to offer them until her powers returned. The best result would end up with them walking away from her; at worst, they would murder her and _then_ walk away.

Turning, she began to make her way down the other side of the hill. There was a four-lane highway nearby; perhaps she could hitch a ride.

As she got down to the road, a white van pulled over. A bearded older man was behind the wheel, but he looked as shell-shocked as she felt. She didn't bother asking questions; she just climbed in and gestured. _We can go now._

The van pulled out into traffic and headed off down the road.

* * *

 **Boston  
** **Accord**

* * *

Slowly, Accord stood up from his desk. This didn't serve to make him any more imposing, as he was only five feet tall at the best of times. "What do you mean, you've all lost your powers?" he demanded.

Citrine swallowed, a nervous habit which he'd hoped to break her of. "Each of the Ambassadors that I've spoken with has reported that they don't have powers anymore," she reported crisply. "My powers are also no longer functional. I thought it best to bring this matter to your attention immediately."

"I see," he said icily. "I am going to have to speak to Cauldron on this matter immediately. This is unconscionable." For a moment, he considered pulling the pistol that resided under his desk and shooting her, but desisted because he didn't want to have to deal with the mess on the carpet. "Return to your duties."

"Yes, sir." Back ramrod straight, she left the room at a precise walk, the way he liked it. The door closed behind her.

Sitting down again, he straightened his lapels. "I would speak with Doctor Mother," he said out loud.

Absolutely nothing happened.

* * *

 **Director Piggot**

* * *

"It's Janesha, isn't it?" Emily glared at Armsmaster. "She's behind this somehow."

"While it's true that she's responsible for our only other instance of power loss in recent days, I would hesitate to blame her for all of this," Armsmaster replied carefully. "You will recall that she had ample reason for her actions on that occasion, and that I extracted a promise from her to speak to me before removing the powers from any other Protectorate-affiliated person. That hasn't happened this time, and in my experience, she is meticulous about keeping her word."

Emily made a low growling noise in her throat. "Weld has vanished without trace from the Boston Wards, both Battery and Triumph have lost their powers, nobody has seen Eidolon for an hour or more, the entire Las Vegas Protectorate contingent has _also_ lost their powers, and we have reports of Case Fifty-Threes vanishing right across the nation. Three-quarters of the inmates in the Philadelphia Parahuman Asylum have likewise disappeared into thin air. If this is the doing of Janesha of Mystal, I really, _really_ want to know what's going through her mind right now."

Armsmaster nodded seriously. "I do understand your concern, ma'am. When I see her next, I will be sure to raise the issue. If you will recall, she was the one who uncovered Coil and was in the process of capturing him when a third party blew his head off."

"I thought you said it was another parahuman, someone called Khepri, who was actually performing the capture." Emily prided herself on recalling the important details of a case.

"That's correct, ma'am." Armsmaster sounded a little embarrassed at being caught on the back foot. "I misspoke. I should have said that she was assisting in his capture."

"And this Khepri was the same person who accompanied her to take on the Simurgh? Who _also_ hasn't been seen in orbit since?"

"That's correct, ma'am." Armsmaster lifted his chin. "My view is that the ongoing absence of the Simurgh is a hopeful sign, and is in no way connected to the other disappearances."

Emily frowned. "Wait, you're saying that you think she could have actually _beaten_ the Simurgh? How can a single cape, however capable, pull that off? God knows, the Triumvirate have tried often enough."

"What little imagery we have shows Janesha inflicting more damage on the Simurgh in just seconds than our forces have done in hours," reported Armsmaster imperturbably. "We lost sight of the end of the battle because the Simurgh apparently retreated behind the Moon, with Janesha and Khepri in pursuit on Cloudstrike. Janesha and Khepri have been sighted since, appearing none the worse for wear. The Simurgh has not. It's not incontrovertible truth that she's been destroyed, but it _is_ strong circumstantial evidence all the same. I'll be asking her about that when I see her next as well."

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

It was very weird, watching Lady Columbine at work. One moment, she stood at ease as they appeared to be having a telepathic conversation, and the next she turned and stared down at the grotesque below. Taylor also looked over the edge, and saw pulses of _something_ —she wasn't sure what, exactly, but she figured she was seeing it through her link with Janesha—ripple across the vast bulk of the creature below and store themselves in the one mostly-humanoid body that stood out in the middle of the whole thing.

Something occurred to her and she concentrated on a series of questions. _Who are these people you're pulling her essence from? Are they the ones who have been eating Edeena to gain powers? Are you taking their powers away from all of them?_

Lady Columbine (because this sure as hell wasn't the work of a human professor) held her right hand over the walkway palm down and looked to her left where Taylor stood. The ripple movement along the monstrosity of a goddess below continued. "When a celestial bequeaths power, it is done because the celestial wishes to gift it," she said. "It may not be a fair situation to those beneath them, but it is the reality. You yourself have been given such a gift, simply for being Janesha's friend. Unlike you, those who have incapacitated Edeena and stolen her essence to force that power-gain had no right to do so, which is why I have now returned that essence to her. Aside from those whose power-theft have left their mortal bodies unable to support them, there were also quite a few individuals who did not belong on your world. Those I have returned to their place of origin, or as close as I can without rewriting the history of their home worlds. As I said, sweetheart. No one was harmed; however, I cannot promise that this will remain the case, once Edeena recovers. What was done here is highly offensive …"

"That's putting it fucking mildly," Janesha growled, to which Lady Columbine jerked her head towards Janesha and raised one eyebrow reprimandingly. Janesha immediately threw her hands up and dipped her head in apology. "Sorry."

The albino vervet monkey on Lady Columbine's shoulder chittered in what Taylor could've sworn was human amusement.

"Oh, shut up, Bee," Janesha groused. "No one asked you."

The vervet monkey laughed even harder.

Taylor tried really hard to block out the byplay between Janesha and the monkey and stay on topic. "But what about the Case Fifty-Threes with amnesia? Will you undo that too?"

Lady Columbine sighed regretfully. "Of the three primary powersets available to a celestial, the mind is the only one that is beyond my ability to control. So unfortunately, those with amnesia will remain with amnesia. Perhaps that will be a blessing, as they will not remember what happened to them."

Taylor couldn't argue with that. She wouldn't want to remember being one of those grotesque monsters. So she decided to change the subject. "Would you be offended if I asked you how old you are?"

Columbine chuckled lightly. "As in all things, age is a relative concept, my dear. By celestial standards, I am still very young; however, in my youth, there was a time I was not unlike Janesha and thought I had the universe by the tail. That was when I first visited Earlafaol. The world we found back then was very green and full of reptilian life forms. It was quite beautiful. I did not know back then that our unmasked presence would make the mortal reality throw out their dominant life form along with the bathwater in an effort to replicate us. Many thousands of millennia later, once I had mastered my craft to my mentor's satisfaction, I returned to claim Earlafaol as my own, and the realm completed its evolution into humanity."

The blithe statement smacked Taylor between the eyes. She did not doubt for even a second that Lady Columbine was telling the absolute truth. Her story was too unbelievable to be anything else. If Taylor was understanding things correctly, the slender young woman before her had literally been on Earth ( _an_ Earth, if not _her_ particular Earth) as a teenager, just before the dinosaur-killing meteor had struck. And then she'd been in school for the better part of sixty million years, before returning to Earth to take up where she'd left off. _Wow, and I thought **my** class periods went on forever._

"Excuse me!" The voice was masculine and unknown to Taylor, and it came from the doorway behind them. "I'm going to have to ask exactly who you are and what you're doing here. This is a restricted area."

The short female guard that had come across ahead of Lady Columbine had already stepped between them and the speaker. But unlike most petite fighters who took a side-on stance to make themselves more streamlined, this woman planted her feet shoulder-width apart with her knees slightly bent and her hands clenched into loose fists at her side like a pro-wrestler.

On the other side of the petite guard stood a tall, fit man in a suit with blond hair and glasses, holding a clipboard as if it were a weapon, or perhaps a shield. Behind him was a black woman in her forties or fifties.

Taylor wasn't sure what to say or do, but Janesha was already on the move. "Well, well, well. This certainly saves me the trouble of hunting you pair down," the teenage celestial said, moving past Taylor and the petite guard to get right into the face of the two newcomers. "Number Man and Doctor Mother. You would not _believe_ how much I've been looking forward to this." From the sound of her voice, Taylor could tell she'd lengthened her canines into fangs.

"Uh, Janesha?" murmured Taylor, glad for once that her full-faced mask allowed her to speak without her lips visibly moving. Ventriloquism had never been her forte. "Who are these people, and why do you sound like you want to tear them limb from limb?"

"Why? Because I do." Janesha raised her voice. "Doctor Mother. What a _stupid_ name. You're neither a doctor nor a mother. _You_ were the one who cut the pieces off Edeena and fed them to people, to infuse them with her essence, weren't you?" Janesha's tone was more accusatory than questioning, much as it had been with Eidolon.

Taylor stared at what she could see of the black woman. She looked remarkably ordinary for someone who had assisted with the cannibalisation of a god. The expression on her face showed that she knew something bad was happening, but she clearly didn't understand the sheer depth of the shit she'd fallen into from a great height.

"I did what I had to do!" the woman called out; not defiantly, but resolutely. "Scion is more dangerous than anything else on Earth. We have to have some way to defend ourselves."

Janesha rolled her eyes. "Oh, puh- _leeze._ The talot I killed the first day I got here was more dangerous than him."

This information may have been old news to Taylor, but the way Lady Columbine stiffened and swung towards the young celestial, it was clear the situation had been more dire than the teen let on. "You fought a talot … _alone_?" the older celestial asked for confirmation, and suddenly Taylor felt the need to inspect the non-existent dirt around the soles of her boots.

"It—it was just a baby … and—and I'm fine," Janesha argued, realising her glib remark had backfired massively. "And it wasn't as if I went and hunted it down on purpose. It ambushed me. I had to defend myself."

Lady Columbine pinched her lips together and shook her head ever so slowly in condemnation. "And you wonder why the elders prefer to keep a close eye on unestablished children. You could have been killed."

"But I wasn't," Janesha insisted.

"But you could have been, Janesha, and no matter how it went down, it was sheer luck you were not. Talots are world breakers and divine hunters by nature …"

"This was a _baby_ , and it got distracted, so I got the drop on it. I'm _fine,_ cousin. Honest."

The blond guy must have decided that this was the time to make a move. He lunged forward, reaching for Janesha with one hand; the other pulled a pistol from behind his back.

In a blur of motion, he was intercepted by Lady Columbine's bodyguard. One moment the petite guard was standing in the walkway between them, and the next she had the man face down on the walkway with his right arm wedged up between his shoulder blades on the other side of Janesha.

"Your orders, milady?" asked the woman, as casually as if she were inquiring about the weather.

"Rip his head off," Janesha snarled, but Taylor could see (fortunately) that her friend wasn't the 'lady' the guard deferred to.

Lady Columbine looked over the pair and said, "He is not yours to harm, Dee. We are here for Edeena."

"He may not be hers to harm, but _I'm_ the one that mortal moron was going to try and hold hostage," Janesha argued, moving to stand over the prone parahuman with her fists clenched.

"No one is disputing that, sweetheart. Though if you plan on following through with your current rage, I would appreciate it if you took him somewhere else first. Edeena has been through quite enough trauma for one century."

Janesha frowned, her eyes bouncing from Edeena to Lady Columbine in confusion. Her thumb rolled towards the mass below. "Why would she find the murder of a mortal to be traumatic, cuz? I mean Taylor, I can understand, since she's one of them. But Edeena's one of us …"

"Janesha."

 _Wow._ On top of everything else, Taylor decided Lady Columbine was definitely a parent. No one else could _ever_ pull off a world of disapproval when saying someone's name like that.

The black woman took their distraction as an opportunity to turn and run, but Taylor wasn't having any of that and quickly gave chase. She'd never been fitter in her life and as she burst through the doorway, she hooked her hand on the frame and swung to the left, gaining valuable time. The corridor she found herself in wasn't very long, and up ahead she saw the woman duck around another corner and out of sight.

Taylor charged after her. But just as she approached the corner, she heard a heartfelt scream of terror. Barely a second later, she collided heavily with Doctor Mother, who was now running back toward her. The older woman clung to her costume and ducked in behind her, babbling fluently in French. What little she could make out came more from her body language than her actual words, for the woman sank to the ground and ducked her head to make herself as small a target as possible.

Cautiously, not releasing her grip on Doctor Mother in case the woman tried to run off again, Taylor took a half step towards the corner and peered past the bend. There was nothing there, just another long, white corridor.

Nothing at all.

After searching all four surfaces, Taylor shrugged dismissively and with a tightening grip on the woman's upper arm, she forced Doctor Mother to her feet and walked her back to the others. Doctor Mother didn't resist, but she did spend most of her time looking back over her shoulder at the corner. " _Le griffon,_ " she muttered. " _Le griffon._ "

"Nicely done, petal," Janesha said over her shoulder as Taylor arrived. The man with blond hair was now on his knees in front of Janesha, and just like Eidolon, he stared straight ahead at nothing.

 _Score one to Lady Columbine_ , Taylor thought to herself, since the man was still here and alive.

"And guess what? We've got an original member of the Slaughterhouse Nine, here. Best buds with Jack Slash himself. Everyone, meet Harbinger, also known as the Number Man, the super-powered accountant."

" _WHAT?_ " The Slaughterhouse Nine were somehow involved in this nightmare that could still get the world destroyed? Funnily enough, once her brain had a chance to process that, Taylor started to feel more comfortable with the situation. The Slaughterhouse Nine were extremely bad, and no one would hold the world responsible for what they did, would they?

"I know, right?" Janesha went on, ignorant of her internal monologue. "His power is literally number-crunching. He's also the doofus who thought he could take on Dee in hand to hand, which incidentally is going to be one of my go-to memories for a good laugh for a long time to come."

"Why would the Slaughterhouse Nine give other people powers?"

"Oh, they didn't. Harbinger left them when a better offer came along."

Taylor couldn't tell if Janesha was embellishing the story or not, but when it came to the Slaughterhouse Nine, it didn't matter. "So was he in on this?" asked Taylor pragmatically. "The whole cutting up Edeena while she was still alive and feeding her to people? Did he eat any of her?"

"Yes to the first, no to the second," Janesha answered. "He came in after they got started, but he was totally on board with all of it. He already had powers and had left the Nine by then. And he might not have started the process, but he kidnapped people and force-fed them vials, just to see what would happen. Innocent in all this, he ain't."

"Oh," Taylor grimaced. That certainly sounded more like a Slaughterhouse Nine member. She pushed Doctor Mother into the ground alongside Harbinger, who made it as far as scrambling to her knees before she took on that same placid, long distance stare of her comrade. "What about her? Is she former Slaughterhouse Nine too? Oh, and just in case this is anything important, while I was chasing her, she got a huge fright and came running back to me. All I can get out of her is the word 'griffin', which doesn't make much sense. But when I looked, I didn't see anything at all."

"Really?" Janesha glanced down at the black woman, then burst out laughing. "Oh, that's just mean! I love it." She looked to her left where Lady Columbine stood and added, "Don't ever change, Bee. That was freakin' beautiful."

The albino vervet monkey with the butterfly wings uttered a proud snicker that was very human-like. When Taylor gave it a suspicious glance, it straightened its shoulders in a stylised preen and blinked back at her innocently.

Even without the butterfly wings, that would've been no normal vervet monkey, Taylor decided. It was far too smart for even its normally intelligent kin. But if it were a _celestial_ version of ordinary monkeys … Taylor had no idea how smart they could get. She wasn't about to lay any bets against it.

By now, the mass had retracted to reveal a woman cushioned on all sides by what Taylor could only describe as giant flower petals. Her body was cocooned in the petals with one rolled against her head like a pillow. The perennial then started to grow towards them out of the mass until the large flowerhead was alongside the walkway, at which point it tilted itself and peeled back its petals to reveal a beautiful woman with long silver hair dressed in silver silk pyjamas.

The moment the petals released their hold, the woman came to life with a gasp and lunged forward, only to be caught in a containing hug by Lady Columbine. "Sssshhh, sweetheart. It is alright. I have you …" Lady Columbine crooned, as the woman thrashed and screamed and cried all at once. It took some time for the woman to even think about calming down, and when she did, her eyes focused on her saviour and she went from fighting her to hugging her fiercely. "Lady Col," she sobbed, inching her fingers closer together in a desperate bid for more contact.

Lady Columbine supported her weight as she continued to stroke her hair and shoulders and whisper kind words of comfort while rocking from side to side as if Edeena were a child and not a fully formed adult.

Taylor read a universe's worth of hurt in Edeena; for despite her body being unmarred and healthy, she was walking wounded. And no wonder; no matter how whole she was now, having one's very essence torn out and fed to strangers for thirty years had to leave _some_ sort of scarring on the psyche.

The look Janesha sent Taylor had the teen nodding in agreement. Yeah, this was definitely intense, but Lady Columbine seemed to take it all in her stride, leaving Taylor to wonder just how many times she'd been called on to put someone's broken pieces back together again like this.

It took several minutes for the sobbing to weaken into noiseless hiccups, but the moment Columbine shifted her weight, Edeena gasped and clung even more desperately to the woman she considered her rock. "It is alright, Edeena. I am not going anywhere. I just need you to answer one question honestly and then you can go back to sleep. Alright?"

Tension still rippled through the woman's arms. "I-I feel like I'm being torn apart…" she stammered, on the verge of sobbing once more.

"I know," Lady Columbine crooned. "Your essence has been at war with itself for a little while now, and it's going to take time to bring it all back into a cohesive unit once more."

"My-my what? I-I don't understand. Why can't I remember …"

"Perhaps that is for the best, for now." As she spoke, Lady Columbine looked over Edeena's head to Janesha. "In time, when you are ready, I will bring in someone who can slowly reintroduce you to the memories you are missing." When Janesha nodded affirmatively, Lady Columbine smiled in gratitude and returned her focus to Edeena. "For now, all you need to know is your brother is here, and he is safe. Do you wish to stay here with him, sweetheart, or come home with me?"

"I want to go home!" the woman's wail filled the room as she buried herself further into Lady Columbine's embrace. "I don't like it here! I don't even know where _here_ is! I don't understand any of this! The last thing I remember was you dropping us off after taking us out to dinner to celebrate my early graduation this afternoon!" Her voice escalated with each new word. "Why can't I remember the rest?"

"Sshhh, I know, baby. You are scared, and that is understandable. It is a very long story, and when you are feeling better, I give you my absolute word I will explain everything to you, in great detail. For now, I need you to trust me, sweetheart, and when you wake up, I will be right there beside you …" As she continued to speak, the tension drifted away from Edeena's body until she sagged and finally collapsed in Lady Columbine's arms. With only one arm supporting her weight, the powerful celest stroked her hair and kissed her brow. "There we go."

"Told you," Janesha said, moving to Taylor's side. "Cousin Col is _good._ " Her voice held a distinct level of satisfaction.

Taylor nodded. "You did." She glanced at Doctor Mother and Number Man, neither of whom had moved. Number Man's pistol lay where it fell, as if it were no more dangerous than the clipboard nearby. Whatever Dee's game was, Taylor had no idea. She was probably the celestial equivalent of a special-ops soldier, from the way she moved. _No, that's not terrifying at all_. "So what happens now?"

"Now," Lady Columbine said, lifting the unconscious woman in her arms. "Edeena needs to be taken back to Earlafaol, but before I leave, I need to speak with her brother." She looked down and to the left of the girls. "Orson, I could use your help in this matter, handsome."

A huge mountain of a man with short, golden brown hair appeared on the walkway to Taylor's right. While Fenja and Menja could get taller, he was easily the largest unaltered person she had ever seen. At well over seven feet tall, he would've been even bigger than Manpower, with the matching build of a quarterback. The casual black t-shirt and jeans he wore hugged him in all the right places. Taylor wasn't exactly sure where he'd come from, but she knew what he was; celestial, to the bone. She was starting to recognise the type.

"Eechee," he said, crossing his arm over his chest and bowing reverently.

Lady Columbine smiled warmly at him. "Would you be a dear and take Edeena back to Earlafaol for me, please? I would like her to be set up in Trysten's old room, though if you could have all the weaponry and magical components removed first, that would also be appreciated." Instead of complying, Orson's lips pinched together tightly and his brows merged into a dark frown to which Lady Columbine tilted her head ever so slightly and quickly added, "There are ninety-nine of your fellow pryde members, plus one of your own clutch-mates and my personal bodyguard remaining with me." The look in her eyes was final when she said, "I will be fine, Orson."

"What does 'Eechee' mean?" Taylor whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

"Boss, top dog, head kahuna, pryde leader … take your pick."

Orson's chocolate brown eyes flicked to the girls, and Taylor got the distinct impression he was assessing _them_ for potential danger.

"Now you're just clutching at straws, big guy," Janesha chuckled, folding her arms in derision. Taylor did likewise, more as a show of unity between the two teens than any belief that she added anything to this situation.

Orson eyed them once more, then huffed irritably in sufferance. "Very well, Eechee." He came forward and slipped his arms alongside Columbine's to relieve her of her burden. The transfer between the two was a simple enough, and once it was done, he swivelled to stand on Lady Columbine's left.

Taylor watched as Lady Columbine raised her hand (much as Janesha had) and said the name "Annette." From Taylor's point of view, nothing changed, but Lady Columbine's lips parted into a fond smile. "I am sorry to wake you, sweetheart … yes, I am currently with Edeena. No, they have not returned to Earlafaol … yet, which is the reason for my blood-link. Orson will be accompanying Edeena home and seeing to her safety whilst I speak to Sagun. If you could rouse the staff and have them prepare Trysten's old apartment for her, I will be along shortly."

As they spoke, Orson's gaze narrowed and it slid to his right towards Lady Columbine. "Do _not_ leave her side again until I get back, sister," he warned, ever so darkly. "Or I'll have your pelt for a rug on my sitting room floor."

"Thank you, sweetheart." Apparently ignoring what Orson had said, Lady Columbine took the large man by the elbow and reached forward with her right hand. Another feminine hand with a short, well-manicured nail set slipped around Columbine's wrist. Moments later, dozens of matching hands appeared all over Edeena's body, each with their wrists vanishing into nothingness and aligned in the same direction. Every set of fingers burrowed between Orson and Edeena until the woman was lifted out of his arms. For a few seconds, she seemed to be floating on a series of levitating hands, but as she was carried away from Orson, more and more of her vanished until she was gone entirely.

"I could still stay," Orson suggested, as one of those levitating hands appeared around Orson's left wrist. He was looking back at Columbine beseechingly. "What if you need me here?"

Columbine's smile was full of warmth as she squeezed his elbow indulgently. "Once you get back to the Prydelands, handsome, your poppa is going to be all over you to know where I went. It is too early in the morning to have him stirring the whole pryde into a battle frenzy when I will be back just as soon as I have spoken to Sagun. Of all your pryde-mates, you are one of the few who can stand your ground and reason with him when his emotions are overstimulated."

"If he doesn't throw me out the nearest window first for leaving you behind," he muttered under his breath, but then he dipped his head in farewell to Lady Columbine and took the step that had him vanishing from sight.

As soon as he was gone, the vervet monkey made a deep raspberry sound at the empty space he'd previously filled, and was rewarded with a light but firm tap on her nose from Lady Columbine. "If you are not brave enough to say it to his face, do not be cowardly enough to ridicule him behind his back," she said, reprimandingly.

"Did they just go back to Earlafaol?" asked Taylor, once again out of the side of her mouth.

"They sure did," Janesha replied cheerfully, having none of the concern that Taylor did. "You should see the family compound there. It's _amazing._ Even by our standards!"

Just for a moment, Taylor felt the urge to ask if she could visit. Earth Aleph didn't have nearly as many capes as Bet did, but they at least knew of parahuman powers. Earlafaol wasn't just another alternate; it was the _original._ Everything she thought of as pre-cape history hadn't happened on Bet or Aleph, but it _had_ happened for real on Earlafaol. Where parahuman powers had never happened, and never would. _No Endbringers. No Slaughterhouse Nine._

"I could ask her if you could go over for a bit," Janesha suggested, making Taylor wonder if she'd used mind-bending. "If you wanted to, I mean."

The impulse passed, and Taylor shook her head. "I'd either love it or hate it, or wonder why I even wanted to go. No matter what, I'd probably end up regretting it."

A bright golden light flashed in the middle of the huge chamber. When it faded, Scion was hovering there, staring around wildly. "Where is she?" he shouted. "Where is Edeena? What have you done with her?"

As Taylor blinked away the last of the flash, she heard Janesha's sigh.

" _Oooh_ boy. Is _he_ in trouble."

* * *

End of Part Eighteen


	20. Chapter 19

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Nineteen: Apocalypse Subverted

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and co-written by Angel466.]_

* * *

Taylor barely had time to react, either to Scion's sudden appearance or to Janesha's off-hand comment, before a huge, armored monstrosity appeared at Scion's side in mid-air. Its three solid legs were braced as if it were on the ground and one of its four arms had Scion's hand at the wrist, twisted painfully. Another arm, full of tentacles, had his legs bound to its waist and a third had a massive lobster style pincer pressed on either side of Scion's throat. Huge, bat-like wings held the monstrosity in place with the smallest of movements, and on its shoulders was a rotating carapace. Like Scion, the entire being gleamed of gold.

Scion's free hand reached for the pincer around his throat, only to be intercepted by a fourth, hollow looking tube of an arm that seemed to swallow his arm to the elbow. "Cease, or die," the monstrosity warned, in that same demonic voice Janesha had used on Eidolon.

Scion's eyes widened and shot to where the golden creature hovered at his side; his chest swelled in panic.

"Sagun, I need you to focus on me and calm down, handsome," Lady Columbine reiterated in a steady voice, waving the fingertips of her right hand to gain his attention. "Dee will release you, once you have done that for me."

 _Sagun?_ wondered Taylor. _Scion's real name is **Sagun**?_

Scion's focus snapped to Lady Columbine and recognition flashed across his features. "Lady Col?" he asked, somewhat hesitantly.

Taylor turned her attention to the woman in charge, whose smile reached all the way to her eyes, causing the gold specks within to sparkle. "It is lovely to see you again, dear," she said sincerely. The vervet monkey on her shoulder rose to its full height, and while one hand still held the professor's head for balance, the other was fisted angrily. "Any chance you could come down here, so neither of us has to shout?"

Scion pinched his lips and wriggled a little more, only to still and have the golden skin around his face go pale with realisation. "Wait _… DEE?_ " he demanded, swivelling his head to look squarely at the colossal thing restraining him. " _Seriously?_ "

"You and me both," Janesha murmured, blinking up at them in shock.

Taylor's eyes went to the spot on the walkway where the petite bodyguard had been standing between Number Man and Doctor Mother and found the space entirely empty. She then looked up at the massive armored monster that seemed to be restraining Scion with laughable ease. "Is that really Dee?" she whispered, through the corner of her mouth, thumbing to the empty space she'd held.

"Uh-huh," Janesha replied. "I mean, I knew Dee was Hellion brute squad under that human facade, but this is the first time I've ever been this close to one in full battle-mode."

"H-Hellion?" Taylor stuttered, the very word sending a body-wide shudder through her.

Janesha's head bobbed. "Yeah. The brute squad is what the rest of us call the Highborn Hellion Guard. Very elite, and very, very, _very_ scary mo-fos." She looked at Taylor. "Rumour has it, they can do to us what an Endbringer could do to you, if your people had no capes at all."

"Who are you people?" Doctor Mother asked, lacking the accusatory tone she'd held earlier. Taylor was surprised she could talk at all. "How do you know Scion? Are you one of them?"

Lady Columbine turned her head ever so slightly towards Doctor Mother. "Who I am depends entirely upon who you ask," she answered obscurely. "If you were to ask my students at the HMS, they would tell you I am Professor Nascerdios, Dean of Medical Education. To Master Geb of Yaru, I am his _almahamiy_. My pryde calls me Eechee. I am 'Mother' to my children, and 'Cousin Col' to young Janesha here. It is all a matter of individual perspective."

Whether it was the lyrical way she spoke, or the time she took to say her piece, Scion must have calmed down, for both he and Dee drifted back to the catwalk, where Dee instantly became the petite guard once more. The change was so incredibly rapid, Taylor found that even her enhanced memory failed to capture any aspect of the transition between one form and the other. Scion jerked his arms free of the woman and backed away to the rail, rubbing his wrists with both hands. "Where's my sister?" he asked, searching the faces of everyone before him.

"Edeena is back in Earlafaol," Lady Columbine answered. Scion immediately dropped his hands and stiffened, but when Lady Columbine raised her own for silence, he held his tongue. "She will be fine, Sagun. On that, you have my absolute word. I plan on nursing her back to health myself, just as soon as I return."

His eyes searched them all once more, before he seemed to accept that. "I lost contact with her years ago. What happened to her?"

Lady Columbine sighed sadly. "At some point, something happened to cause her essence to fracture, and I have only just now brought all the parts of her back together. She needs time to recover."

Sagun blinked. "Essence?"

"The source of the power you wield when you take command of a realm and craft constructs is called your essence," Lady Columbine said patiently.

"How the hell does he not know that?" Janesha snarled, incredulously. Lady Columbine's finger shot up in warning and with a frustrated growl, Janesha quietened down.

"In your sister's case, her essence was partially scattered, which may explain why you lost contact with her. Once she has made an adequate recovery, I will see to it that she reaches out to re-establish contact with you." For a few seconds, an uncomfortable silence fell over the room, but then Lady Columbine twisted her face high and to the right, gesturing to her exposed cheek. "Forgetting something, Sagun?"

Scion looked at her hand, then her face. Then he dropped his chin to his chest in a snort and shook his head. Still looking down, he wiped the front and back of his hands clean on his bodysuit and stepped forward into Lady Columbine's space. Holding her by the elbows, he pressed his lips to the cheek in question, then wrapped his arms around her waist in a tight hug, pushing his throat against her right shoulder. "I missed you, Lady Col," he murmured over her shoulder.

Lady Columbine slipped her arms over his shoulders and returned the embrace. "I missed you too, handsome."

And she held him until he relaxed completely in her arms, at which point, he pulled away to look at her. "Edeena's really going to be okay, though, right?" he asked, for clarification.

Lady Columbine nodded. "It will take time, but yes, she will recover." She retracted her right hand and stroked the left side of his face, her nails sliding effortlessly through his beard. "This certainly makes you look dashing."

Sagun chuckled and pulled away from her touch. "Edeena said my first effort at a beard looked like someone had stapled a dead ferret to my face."

Janesha snorted in amusement, and even Taylor was hard pressed to keep from laughing. This version of Scion was so far removed from the morbid images she'd seen on TV that she was having a hard time remembering they were one and the same.

"Given how quickly you have managed to create a pocket realm for yourself, I was going to suggest you abandon this first attempt and return to Earlafaol with me. Your presence alone would do wonders for your twin's recovery." Her eyes swept down the length of him before returning to his face. "But unfortunately, I see that is no longer a viable option for you." Her lips pinched a little, as if in pain or regret as she tucked his fringe behind his right ear. "You always were so ambitious, Sagun. Just like your father."

"I wouldn't know," Scion griped, bitterly. "Seeing how he threw me and Edeena away like garbage the first chance he got."

Lady Columbine lowered her hand to his shoulder and squeezed. "It was not as straightforward as that, and you know it. He had an affair, and his wife would have killed both you and your sister in a very horrible way, had she learned of your existence. He brought you to me to keep you safe."

A disgusted look swept over Scion's features and his hands went to his hips as he looked at the ceiling over her head. His lips pinched together, though the way they flexed and twitched, it was clear he had plenty to say to the contrary that he didn't want to voice.

Lady Columbine laid her hand against his cheek, dusting his cheekbone with her thumb. "Do not allow yourself to be defined by the actions of others, Sagun. You are so much better than that."

Unwilling to listen in on a conversation that definitely wasn't meant for her, Taylor slid her hand into Janesha's and tugged her a few steps away.

"You okay, petal?" Janesha asked.

"Lady Columbine talked to me in here when she was bringing Edeena back together again." As she spoke, Taylor tapped her forehead. "Not all the way in, the way you do though …"

Janesha nodded, as if she already knew what Taylor was going to say. "Yeah, she's a lot of things, but she's not a bender like we are. I mean, she _should_ be, being my cousin from the bending side of things and all, but for whatever reason, she isn't. There's a thousand theories going around as to why, but it doesn't change the bottom line."

That wasn't really what Taylor wanted to talk about. "She said you were crying because of me."

Janesha huffed and scowled at Lady Columbine, who arched an eyebrow without ever breaking her conversation with Sagun.

But Taylor didn't want her to brush the matter aside. "Don't do that," she said, taking her friend's hand in both of hers. "I was really angry with you for throwing Earth Bet to the wolves when you found out about Edeena. But she made me understand you didn't have a choice. That, as always, there's a bigger picture to consider."

"I was ready to yank you and Danny to me, if Uncle Chance or one of the others came through with Cousin Col. You may have hated me afterwards, but I was going to make it very clear to them that you were mine and I wasn't willing to lose you."

"I'm glad you didn't have to."

"Me too."

"Is this a private conversation, or can any old friend join in?" A light, melodic voice asked from the far side of them. Taylor and Janesha both turned towards the newcomer, and shock of shocks … it was yet _another_ gorgeous woman. Her skin was as white as her clothing and her eyes were a rich pink. Her hair fell around her shoulders in perfect waves, and dressed as she was in a short, A-line skirt and peep-toe pumps, she had legs that supermodels would've killed for.

Janesha held her hand up with a deep chuckle, causing the woman to mimic the swipe that had their hands colliding in a mid-air forwards and backwards greeting. "Bee, this is my friend Taylor. Taylor, this is Bee, Lady Columbine's companion."

"Call me Bee or Bianca, darlin'," drawled Bee. "And I just had to come over and shake your hand before we left." She held her hand out to do just that.

"Uh—why?" Taylor asked, though she took the woman's hand and enjoyed a brief, firm handshake.

The smirk on Bee's face was a work of art as she tilted her head towards Janesha. "Anyone who can get a Mystallian's head out of their backside long enough to appreciate the mortals for something other than a power source is worth shaking the hand of."

"Bite me, bitch," Janesha snarked, with an over-the-top frown and matching jaw thrust. It lasted for all of a second. "Besides, aren't you supposed to have your ass glued to Cousin Col over there, or risk 'being turned into a floor rug'?"

Bee rolled her eyes and huffed, the move not quite the blatant raspberry from before. "Please. I don't take my orders from that overgrown parakeet. I'm medical. He's military. And we're clutch-mates. He can huff and puff 'til the other eight levels of Hell freezes over, for all I care. He's not the boss of me."

"You might think differently when he's got you in a headlock with a fistful of talons poking out the other side of your ribs."

Bianca shrugged nonchalantly. "He has to catch me first."

"Wait … _you_ were the vervet monkey?" Taylor asked, glancing back at Lady Columbine and finding her left shoulder free of the albino creature. The way these celestial creatures moved around and changed shape, she was wondering if they should be wearing bells or something. She'd already decided to not try to decipher the majority of what they were saying until she got Janesha alone.

" _And_ anythin' else I feel like bein', at the time I feel like bein' it, sugar," Bee confirmed cheerfully. "The vervet monkey's one of my favorites, though. Anyone who knows enough to recognize that 'faolian monkeys shouldn't have wings will stay well clear, and the rest never see it coming." She chuckled in reminiscence, then paused and looked mischievously at Janesha. "And what makes you think I've got the monopoly on a future ass-kicking, anyway? At least I've only got my egg-headed brother to deal with. You've clearly forgotten just how many people are gunning for you, Chicken Little."

"No, I haven't. I'm just choosing to not think about it," Janesha argued, curling her top lip and screwing up her nose. "That's future me's problem."

Bianca's laugh deepened and she shook her head incredulously. "Yeah, let me know how works for you, darlin'. You won't be sittin' down for at least a year, and that's if your old man's the one who gets to you first."

Janesha's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait … Dad's looking for me too?"

Bianca's eyes also widened, though hers were in a more condescending ' _duh'_ way. "One thing I'll give you, ratbag, you certainly know how to stir-up the Known Realms. Asgard's in trouble because you were a minor left to their care and they didn't see to your well-being."

"But Aunt Yasadan knew I left…"

"I'm not talking about the Mystallians. Your father is blaming your disappearance wholly and solely on the Asgardians and he's already gone to blows with Thor over what happened; given they're next-realm neighbors. Your older brothers and sisters on his side are fanning out across the Unknown Realms in an effort to pick up any hint of your trail, but I don't think they'll be the ones to find you first. Not when your Uncle Barris and Uncle Chance have joined forces with Armina to have the realm's _luckiest man-hunt_ …"

"Fuck me!" Janesha swore heatedly under her breath, raking her fingers through her hair and clutching the back of her neck in frustration. "I am sooo fucking screwed!"

If Lady Columbine heard her whispered curse, she made no show of it.

Bianca huffed once more. "Why does this surprise you? I was a lot older than you when I took a two-month unauthorized sabbatical from the Pryde, and Poppa still drop-kicked me into my own orbit when he finally found me working under a different name in an unlicensed clinic in downtown New York."

"The Eechen's as scary as the brute squad when he's pissed."

Bianca snorted again. "Give me the brute squad any day, sugar. Poppa could eat them for breakfast all day long."

Taylor watched the interaction between them as much as she listened to it. The most surreal moment of all was when she realized if she closed her eyes, the entire conversation was practically … _normal_. They could've just as easily been her neighbors down the street, if she swapped out the word 'realm' for more realistic terms like next-door and next suburb over. Of course, her neighbors weren't actually serious when they talked of kicking someone into orbit or eating someone for breakfast, (something she couldn't say was the case here) but other than that, the rest of the word choices were all too familiar to her.

Janesha breathed out long and hard, then pressed her lips together and sucked them through her teeth. "Well, it's too late now," she said, dropping her hands to her sides and throwing her right shoulder up in a half-shrug. "Might as well party hard and enjoy the ride while it lasts."

"And you should also know; your grandmother hit up the Pryde for some tefsla."

Janesha's eyebrows shot straight up into her hairline and her mouth fell open in horror.

Bianca immediately held up a hand with her fingers stretched wide, patting the air between them. "Easy, Janesha. To my knowledge, Poppa refused. But your grandmother's a very resourceful woman when she sets her mind to something and with Chance in tow, she'll probably find some way of getting it before she arrives here anyway."

Janesha's eyes scrunched together before she covered them with one hand. "Holy fucking hell," he murmured into her palm, scratching her nails across her brows as if to stave off a headache.

"Wha—wha—what's tefsla?" Taylor asked, immediately growing concerned for her friend.

Bianca eyed Taylor, then looked across to Janesha and tilted her head sympathetically.

The Mystallian teen grimaced once more, then licked her parched lips and said, "It's the one thing that can block our ability to shift, petal. If she's after tefsla, she wants to make sure that whatever she has in mind for me … _hurts_ … for a long time to come."

Bianca closed her eyes and nodded in agreement. "The downside to having a powerful family, is that they _are_ powerful when you come into their crosshairs." Then she opened her eyes and smirked, patting the doomed teenager on the shoulder. "It's been nice knowing you, darlin'."

"Bite me," Janesha repeated, with none of her earlier vigor.

Lady Columbine cleared her throat politely. "Excuse me," she said when they turned their attention to her. "Bianca and I will be leaving shortly, but before we go, Sagun wanted to ask you something, Janesha."

Taylor had to wonder why Lady Columbine felt it necessary to act as intermediary between a grown man and a teenager, especially one as powerful as Scion—Sagun. It wasn't as if asking his own question was beyond him … unless he thought he had a better chance of getting a truthful answer if Lady Columbine bore witness to it.

A stimulation wave rolled over Janesha, fixing her hair and straightening her uniform. "Sure," she said, so chirpily that Taylor knew it had to be fake. "What'd you want to know?"

Scion looked at each of them before settling his gaze on Janesha. "Lady Col says that you can see into minds, the way I can alter bodies…"

"I can do both, actually."

"Janesha," Lady Columbine warned, when Scion's eyes widened, and he glanced apprehensively at his former guardian.

Janesha shrugged irreverently. "Just stating a fact."

"Then allow me to add another fact your collection. You will not be changing _his_ shape, young lady, as he is descended from the Hellion Highborn."

It was Janesha's turn to look poleaxed. "Oh."

Even Taylor understood that reference. They were the ones that ordered around those things like Dee. Ranged shapeshifters, the way Janesha was a ranged mind-bender.

"So, what did you want to ask?" Janesha rested a loose fist on her hip as she spoke.

"I want to know what happened to my sister. All of it. Lady Col says she only just arrived, so she doesn't know, but she said you have the means to help me find out."

There were more teeth in Janesha's grin than there strictly should have been. "Oh, I can definitely help you there." She mimed cracking her knuckles; the gentle pressure of her hand setting off firecracker detonations that had Taylor mentally snorting in amusement. "Buckle up, Sparky. You're going for a quick trip down my memory lane."

Taylor wasn't entirely sure what happened (though she could guess), but from one second to the next, Scion went from a ball of nervous confusion, to one that was absolutely bristling with rage. His eyes went to the spot on the walkway where Doctor Mother and the Number Man both knelt. Power coursed through his body, lifting him off the ground. "HOW _DARE_ YOU?" he bellowed, each syllable like a crack of thunder that shook the walkway.

Lady Columbine closed her eyes and twisted her head to one side away from Scion, her nostrils flaring slightly.

Apparently pleased with herself, Janesha stepped to one side and gave an imperious wave at the condemned pair. "They're all yours, Sagun. Have at 'em."

A single flash of light later, Scion and the two human prisoners were gone, leaving Taylor and the celestials alone on the walkway.

"Well, that certainly … escalated more quickly than I had hoped," Lady Columbine said, blinking heavily twice and clearing her throat before she shifted her focus to the two teens. Janesha in particular. "But now that Sagun has gone, I too have a request of you, sweetheart."

Janesha glanced at Bianca to see if she had any idea where this was going, and when the albino woman hitched a shoulder and shook her head, the teen looked back to Lady Columbine. "Okay …?" she said cautiously.

"Sagun is young. In truth, he is far too young and inexperienced to be established, but it has been done now and nothing short of hunting down and murdering all of his believers will change that. Had you not been in this realm, no one from the Known Realms would have ever visited here by choice. This is his realm. At just a few hundred worlds, it is beyond tiny, but it suits his needs. By contrast, Mystal and Rangi-Tuarea both have the power to destroy him and his realm in a heartbeat if anything happens to you."

"So basically, you want me to stay safe, and don't give either side of my family a reason to kill him."

"Exactly."

Janesha's tongue hovered over the bump of her top lip. "You know … the best way to ensure that would be if you stayed too …"

Taylor was no mind-bender, but she didn't have to be one in order to translate Janesha's intent. With the amount of sheer familial disapproval that was now looming on the metaphorical horizon, the teenage celestial wanted the one person who wasn't being judgmental in the matter in her corner to deflect at least part of that shitstorm.

Lady Columbine seemed to likewise correctly interpret Janesha's words, if the gentle smile that crossed her lips was any indication. "When you chose this path, you knew there would be consequences."

"But I didn't think grandmother Armina would be bringing tefsla to the table …!"

"Did you not think she would counter your ability to shapeshift around a physical punishment? This is no longer just about you, Janesha. The elders plan on using you as an object lesson for every other unestablished child in the realm, including those yet to come."

Janesha's ready confidence wilted. "How in the Twin Notes is that fair?"

"It is not about being fair, sweetheart. It is about ensuring the safety of everyone your age. And if doubling down on you prevents anyone else from ever trying it, then they will have achieved their objective."

Janesha locked her fingers together and held them flat against the back of her head. She looked at the ceiling overhead and bit her bottom lip, and Taylor could see she was fighting back tears. "This is so not fair," she argued. "I just wanted to take a few weeks to myself to blow off some steam."

"And in the process, you ran headlong into a talot."

"A _baby_ talot … which I killed."

"With mortal intervention. You had a lot of luck on your side there, sweetheart, and luck is not something to be relied on unless you are someone like Uncle Chance." As if realizing this conversation would go nowhere fast, Lady Columbine reached out and gripped the teen's shoulder. "Whether you believe that or not, Edeena has been through a terrible ordeal not entirely of her own making, and I really do need to get back to tend to her."

Janesha dropped her arms in defeat, tacitly acknowledging the point. "Yeah, I know. She was a mess."

Lady Columbine moved her hand to tenderly massage the side of Janesha's throat. "If you truly believe my presence will make any difference at all to what is about to befall you, the offer to return to Earlafaol with us is still open."

This time, the celestial teen seemed to consider it for a few seconds, but then she looked at Taylor and shook her head. "No, I can't. Something weird is going on here, and if I leave now, I'll probably never get back. I don't want to leave my friends without making sure they'll be alright."

Lady Columbine smiled in understanding, then she leaned forward and pressed her lips against Janesha's forehead. "As you wish, my dear. Should you require my counsel at any time, do not hesitate to call out. I am only ever a blood-link away."

"Thank you, Cousin Col." Just as Scion had done, Janesha kissed Lady Columbine on the cheek and wrapped her arms around her waist to hug her close. "I really, really appreciate it."

Columbine chuckled indulgently as she returned the embrace. "Anytime, sweetheart. Just … promise me you will avoid any other talots in the foreseeable future, alright?" She kissed Janesha hair once more, then pulled away when the teen nodded. "Come along, Bianca. It is time we were on our way."

Between one step and the next, Bianca became the vervet monkey that took to the air with two beats of her delicate butterfly wings. She hovered behind Janesha's head just long enough to thoroughly muss the girl's perfect hair, then banked towards Lady Columbine, chittering in delight. Her wings bounced as she landed on the professor's left shoulder, using Lady Columbine's head for balance.

Janesha muttered blackly under her breath as she cast another stimulation wave to rectify the mess that would've taken Taylor at least an hour to sort out. Because celestials sucked like that.

"It was lovely to meet you, Taylor," the professor said, holding her hand out to the mortal teen.

Taylor stared at the hand, still shocked that someone like the professor would want to make physical contact with the pariah of Winslow. "L-L-Likewise," she stammered, taking the hand but not applying much pressure.

Lady Columbine lay her other hand over the top of Taylor's, encompassing it. "I truly wish you and your father all of my best. Very few celestials manage to form true friendships with mortals. I believe it is a good habit to get into." While Taylor was still goggling over the sheer _sincerity_ in those words, Columbine broke contact and made a brief gesture in the air. "Annette."

That was the second time she'd used that name.

Hearing her mother's name pulled painfully on Taylor's heartstrings, even though she knew intellectually the number of ' _Annette_ 's in existence had to be astronomical. It helped though, that she couldn't see the woman on the other end of the bloodlink. Being able to imagine that her mother was perhaps alive in some way on some other Earth brought a little comfort to her.

While Lady Columbine reached out and grasped the disembodied hand, Bee rose to her full height and waved cheerfully at them. The professor also waved with her free hand and stepped forward.

Between one instant and the next, she vanished altogether from mortal ken.

Silence fell over the vast echoing room. Taylor blinked a couple of times, trying to convince herself that she wasn't imagining things. "That really happened, didn't it?" she asked out loud. "We're not in some mental construct, playing out a what-if?"

"You have no idea how much I really, really, _really_ wish we were," Janesha said, squatting almost to the floor with her head bowed. She dragged her fingers through her hair then clenched her right fist and slammed it through the heavy-gauge metal and concrete walkway up to the elbow. "I can't believe they're going to use me as an example to the others. That's _so_ fucking bullshit." She heaved her hand free, sending chips of concrete flying, then let out a frustrated huff and rose to her feet, turning to fully face Taylor. "So, that buttload of unfair crap aside, what did you think of Cousin Columbine?"

Taylor got the feeling that the question was double-edged and, given the hole Janesha had punched into the walkway, she knew to choose her words carefully; not that she had any problem with gushing over the strange visit. "On a scale of one to ten?" She shook her head wonderingly. "About fifty million. I can see why you look up to her."

"Tolja, didn't I?" Janesha grinned, albeit weakly. "She's absolutely the _only_ person who could've come in and fixed this situation without calling in the rest of the family." Her chuckle seemed to pick up her spirits. "And, of _course_ she was the one who raised Sagun and his sister. Because who else _would?_ "

"Having met her," Taylor said quietly, "I can't imagine a better mother figure for anyone." She looked around at the vast echoing room. "So, did you want to explore?"

"Nah." Janesha tapped herself on the side of the head. "Already got everything I need about this place from Doctor Mother and the Numbers Man." She waved her hand at the room around them. "This whole place is set up like a giant prison, where the prisoners were force-fed vials of Edeena's essence. Those that turned into what you called Case Fifty-Threes either got their memories wiped and dumped out in the world, or never left at all."

"So, those ones are still here?"

Janesha shook her head. "Lady Col said she put all the Case Fifty-Threes back where they came from, remember? That included the ones being kept here. This place is a ghost town now." She shrugged. "Wanna get outta here and go back to Brockton Bay?"

"Sure," Taylor said, and took Janesha by the hand. Preparing to step forward with her, she watched with interest as Janesha laid her hand on the rail and concentrated slightly. "What're you doing?"

As Janesha took her hand away from the rail, there was a far distant rumbling, and a slight shift in the air. "There are more people connected to Cauldron than just Doctor Mother and Harbinger, but those two were the only ones here when we showed up. I mean, sure, they could've been hiding, I suppose. It's not like I'm attuned here or anything. But Cousin Col's empathy would've dinged them about one second after she got the lay of the land. If they come back, I don't want them being able to use the place." The rumbling was louder now, and there was a palpable vibration through the floor.

"So, you set the place up to collapse?" It wasn't a hard guess to make. Taylor grinned. Alarms were now wailing. Cracks ran up the wall, and the walkway they were on lurched sideways. Janesha didn't seem to notice; her hand steadied Taylor.

"I set the place up to collapse from the outside in." The celestial girl grinned right back. They took a step forward, just as the ceiling began to crumble.

They stepped out of the celestial realm into Taylor's living room. Taylor put her hands on her knees and concentrated on just breathing for a moment, then pulled her helmet off and tossed it onto the sofa. Then she flopped down onto the cushions herself. "Whoa …" she sighed.

"Hey, what are you wimping out about now?" asked Janesha with a bemused smirk. "You're acting like you've never met another celestial before."

"Today's been a lot of firsts," Taylor told her flatly. "Seeing a guy's head get blown off. Watching you beat the living crap out of the Simurgh. That thing with Eidolon. Cauldron base. Scion. Your cousin Columbine. You'll excuse me if I take a minute to destress, okay? Is that alright with you?"

Chuckling out loud, probably at the sheer amount of snark in Taylor's voice, Janesha began to voice a reply, but was interrupted when footsteps sounded on the stairs. They both turned to look.

Danny appeared a moment later from the entrance hall. "Oh, good," he said. "It _is_ you. I was beginning to wonder what you were up to … Taylor, what _are_ you wearing?"

Taylor looked down at herself, realizing for the first time that she was still wearing the costume Janesha had crafted for her. "Oh, uh … call me Khepri, I guess," she said. "If I'm gonna be helping Janesha out and stuff, I mean."

"From which I presume you _didn't_ go to school today." Danny folded his arms and tapped his foot meaningfully.

"Cut her some slack, Danny," Janesha replied, also folding her arms. "If it wasn't for her, there wouldn't be an Earth Bet left to go to school on, and I'm guessing of the two, that's more important to you."

"Maybe just a bit," Danny admitted, dropping his arms to his sides. "So how did she manage that?"

"It started with a PRT villain named Coil, and from there we worked our way to the top."

"A PRT _villain_?" Danny baulked.

Janesha nodded. "Mmm-hmmm. Operating right under their noses. And I could tell from the way he danced around me that he was getting help from somewhere, so we worked our way right up the food chain until we uncovered a shitload of behind-the-scenes crap that I doubt very few people even know. And Taylor was right there in the thick of it with me, covering my back."

Danny grimaced and looked at Taylor. "So, that _was_ you two beating hell out of the Simurgh, earlier? I thought it was, but I couldn't be sure. The footage was more than a little blurry."

"Know of any other winged mystallions the color of dawn?" Janesha quipped.

"I don't know of any other mystallions period," Danny shot back in return.

"Well, we ran that bitch to ground on the other side of the moon and _ended_ her. From her, we worked our way to which hero was secretly controlling them, and from him …"

"A HERO WAS CONTROLLING THE END-BRINGERS?!" Danny couldn't have shouted that any louder if he tried.

"And you don't want to know which one that was, dad. Trust me. Ignorance is a whole lot easier to live with." Taylor cut her hand through the air in a gesture of finality.

"But you fought the Simurgh?" Danny seemed to have trouble getting past that point. He looked at Janesha. "You took Taylor to fight the Simurgh? What were you _thinking?_ "

"Check the tone, Danny-boy. I was thinking that we'd go and get rid of her before her and her bastard siblings could cause any more trouble on Earth Bet."

"Her siblings?"

"The end-bringers are all interconnected as a single cluster or family of constructs," Taylor answered, laying her head back against the headrest of the couch. "And there was a whole lot more than three of them waiting in the wings to step up." She cracked an eye in Janesha's direction. "What were there? Twenty-ish?"

"Twenty total, including the three that had already been activated."

Danny's face paled and staggered to his left to slide down the opposite end of the couch to where Taylor sat. "Twenty Endbringers … controlled by a hero," he repeated.

"You should've seen Taylor, Danny. She went toe-to-toe with that white-skinned cow, and she's standing here to talk about it. And the fake Simurgh ain't."

"I didn't do jack _shit_ to her," Taylor protested, getting up from the sofa. "I was only ever a distraction at best."

"Oh, bullshit." Janesha reached across and mussed Taylor's hair playfully. She turned her attention to Danny. "Twice, that feathered fake tried to make a run for it, and Taylor showed me exactly where she'd disappeared to. We were a _team_. And I'm not just saying this, but we made a realm-damned good team." She twisted back to Janesha. " _You_ tracked down Coil, _we_ wrecked the Simurgh's whole day … and _you_ even impressed Bee and Cousin Col. Bee's from the pryde, girl. I don't think you get how big that is. _Pantheons_ barely get a second glance from them, and Bee went out of her way to shake your hand."

"Only because I made you care about mortals …"

Danny looked from one to the other like a spectator at a tennis match. "Cousin Col? Is that the Lady Columbine you've told us about? The celestial who runs that other Earth?"

"Yeah, Dad." Taylor nodded firmly. "Janesha called her in for a … uh, a problem. She fixed it." She shook her head. "She's _amazing_. Like, you can totally tell she's a goddess, but she's also really well-grounded at the same time. And you'll never guess what else." She paused for a beat, then burst out, "Scion's her adopted kid! His real name is Sagun!"

There was a long moment of silence, then Danny leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face with both hands. "Pretty sure I saw a Star Trek episode that covered this once…" he murmured into his palms, then dropped his arms forward to clasp his hands together in front of his knees. "And here I thought I was long past being surprised." He shook his head again. "Now I can see why you're so shell-shocked, Taylor. Son of a _bitch._ " From the unnaturally calm tone of his voice, Taylor could tell he was trying hard not to overreact, though the wild look around his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

"Oh, trust me, that's about one _percent_ of the weird shit I learned today," Taylor assured him. "I mean—"

The phone rang, making her jump. Danny turned and clambered to his feet. "I'll get it, though it's probably the PRT, looking for you, Janesha. They've been blowing up my phone for the last half an hour or so."

Taylor shared a glance with Janesha. "I wonder how much havoc we caused today?" she murmured.

The celestial teenager snorted. "I couldn't give a rat's ass, to be honest. Every one of those scumbag thieves deserved everything they got. More if anything. Cousin Col took the nice way out when she stripped them of their powers. No one else would've been that generous—me included."

Taylor climbed to her feet and stretched. "Well, it certainly won't be for me, so I think I might go up and get out of this outfit before anyone else turns up and points it out." Grabbing her helmet, Taylor headed upstairs to change out of her costume. _That's another first for the day,_ she mused as she entered the room she shared with Janesha. Having an actual superhero costume to wear. It was just lucky that Janesha had been able to repair it after her throwdown with the Simurgh, or her dad might really have gone off the rails when he saw the moondust and the outward damage.

When she came back downstairs, Janesha was leaning her hip against the kitchen table, talking on the phone. "For the third and last time, you dumb-ass fuck-knuckle," the teenage celest snarled testily into the receiver. "I took away Shadow Stalker's powers, and that's it. No one else's." She paused for a moment, probably to hear whatever was said on the other end of the phone. "I don't give a flying fuck if you believe me or not!" she roared.

When she noticed Taylor, Janesha gave her a quick chin-lift to acknowledge her arrival then returned her attention back to the person on the other end of the phone call. "Oh, for Mystal's sake. Put Armsmaster on the line. He's actually got a brain, and he uses it on occasion." There was a pause. "You fucking _what_? _Him_? Okay, that's it! This call is _done!_ "

She hung up the phone, and Taylor got the sudden impression that she was being very careful not to break it _or_ the cradle. " _For fuck's sake!_ " she snarled, clenching her fists and making bone claws erupt from her knuckles briefly, before she retracted them again. "Petal, I know I said I wouldn't go killing mortals for no good reason, but that self-important asshole has just jumped up and down on my last fucking nerve."

"What, Director Piggot?" asked Taylor. "I thought you and her had come to an agreement. She didn't bother you, and you didn't turn her into a newt."

"Not her! Some other fuckwit by the name of Tagg. Apparently, Alexandria's being a big sooky baby now that she's lost the powers she stole, so the bitch has sicc'd her top headhunter on me as a "Special Investigator" to try and force me to confess." She blew out a deep raspberry as Danny came in from the living room. "By the Twin Notes of all creation, Ǐ̺͓̠́ ̢͇̦͇͚̥ͯŕ̮e̥̠̣͓͌̑ͮͥ̈ͣ̏a͚̻̤̟̼͕̱͒͞l̺̣̘͓̑͑ͭ̑̾͋͑l̵̹̿̓ͦ̾y̗͚͚̺͓͖̿̋̌̐ ͇̯͖͋̽̒̌͋ẖ͇̘̬̮͚̬̌͆̓̏̿̌o̲̫̘ͮ̿ͪp̳̰̪ȇ̹͔̲͈̩̤̈̇́̊ͬ̾͞ ͚̳̱̻͈̱ͣh̸̭̞̼̮̘͖͌ẽ͔̦̗̖̰̣̖ͬ ̶̣̮̭̠̪̓̊́ͫ͊t͇͖͙r̺̙ͯͭͤ͢ï͉̫͇̱e͚̘̰̍̕s̪͆͢.̬̖̰̐̏ͅ"

"Confess what, exactly?" asked Danny, unable to stop himself from trembling; probably because this was the first time he'd heard Janesha's demonic voice. Taylor was starting to get used to it. "The Coil thing? Or the Simurgh fight?" He looked from one teenager to the other. "I can't really see either one of those warranting a high-level PRT investigator." Silence fell for a moment, then he sighed. Slowly, he rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his forehead. "Okay, what _else_ have you two done?"

Janesha crossed her arms. "As I just said to that Tagg guy, the only powers I took away were Shadow Stalker's, and that was because of what she did to Taylor."

"Don't remind me," Danny growled, sliding a hand across Taylor's shoulders protectively.

"So anyway, as I said before, we followed the breadcrumb trail all the way to the top and found another celestial had been taken prisoner and was being tortured." Janesha pointed at herself. "I'm a celest, but I'm no healer. Cousin Col is the best healer I know of outside of an establishment field, and so I brought her in to help put the pieces of the broken celestial back together again. Which she did."

"Dad, they were eating her alive to gain powers!" Taylor blurted. The image of the beautiful woman with silver hair so utterly broken in Lady Col's arms was something that would give her nightmares for a long time to come. "Carving her up like a slab of meat! They even called her a flesh garden!"

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey," Danny crooned, wrapping her up in a tight hug. "It's okay. It's okay." He looked over Taylor's head at Janesha and asked, "It is okay now, though—isn't it?"

"Physically, yeah. Cousin Col took back all the stolen pieces and reintegrated them with Edeena, then sent her back to Earlafaol where she'll be monitoring her recovery."

"And Edeena is …?"

"Scion's twin sister," Taylor revealed.

"And that boy is peee-isssed," Janesha laughed again. A very unholy laugh. "I'd have asked for front row seats, but next time I cross paths with him, I'm gonna check out for myself what he did when he left the Cauldron base." She rubbed her hands together gleefully. "If he's even got the tiniest smidge of the Highborn Hellion Lords' taste for brutality, it should be a glorious watch."

"Janesha, you know I don't like it when you talk like this," Danny said with a frown. "I can't stop you from doing it, but you don't have to revel in it in front of us."

Janesha straightened with a sigh. "You didn't see what they did to her, Danny. But alright, I'll keep my murder-fantasy to myself." She rolled her thumb towards the phone. "Anyway, Tagg thinks I took away all those stolen powers and wants to bully me into making a confession."

"And what were you saying about Armsmaster?" Taylor asked, resting her head against her father's shoulder both for comfort and support.

"Tagg stuck him in Master/Stranger protocols. My guess, because Armsmaster wouldn't break the law and join Tagg in trying to arrest me without cause. So, the question is, do I go and bust Armsmaster out, or go and make Tagg's dick-headed skull implode first and _then_ bust Armsmaster out?"

It was Danny's turn to sigh and shake his head. "Maybe I could offer an option three?" he suggested.

"I'm listening," Janesha said warily. "Not making any promises, mind you."

Danny nodded. "That's fair. How about this: instead of stomping on down to the PRT building and declaring war on them, how about we go down there peacefully and talk to them? You know, communicate? Negotiate, even?"

Taylor was reminded that her father was indeed a savvy negotiator; indeed, he was one of the reasons the Dockworkers still had an Association in Brockton Bay. She couldn't blame him in the least for wanting to shift the playing field in his favour. And to be honest, it didn't sound like a bad idea.

"Talk?" Janesha sounded dubious in the extreme. "To people like that? You do know we're not gonna get anywhere with them if they decide not to listen, right?"

Danny spread his hands. "We can only try. And if we _don't_ try, we'll never know if it would've worked or not."

"I still think you're wasting your time, but you're the one on a limited time frame. I've got forever." Janesha cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders. Taylor bit her tongue to avoid reminding her friend of what lay in her near future, and as such, Janesha continued, "Let's go see if you can talk basic comprehension into a shithead. That'll be a miracle worthy of a full-on celest."

Taylor chuckled out loud while Danny smirked. "Wouldn't be the first time. I'll just get the car keys."

"Car keys?" Janesha sneered. "Where we're going, we don't need … car keys."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Cloudstrike's good, but I think she might object to three riders at once."

Taylor took the opportunity to answer. "You've never realm-stepped, have you?"

Danny glanced at his daughter. "Uh, no. Is it hard?"

"Nope." Taylor took his hand. "We hold hands and step forward together. First we go to a weird place full of crystals, then the next step takes us wherever Janesha says we're going."

"Okay." Danny shook his head wonderingly. "This actually explains how you were getting around so fast. I guess I thought Cloudstrike was doing extra duty." He took Janesha's hand. "Ready when you are, I suppose."

"And … go," Janesha and Taylor both stepped out at the same time, guiding Danny to take the same forward movement into the celestial realm. The look of surprise on his face was somewhat amusing to Taylor, but by the time he had his mouth open to say something, they were standing on the pavement in front of the PRT building.

"Whoa," he said. "Damn. That was … what _was_ that place?"

"The celestial realm," Taylor said cheerfully. "Those crystals? They're where powers come from. Cool, huh?"

"That's … one word I'd use, definitely." He shook his head. "But sightseeing wasn't the point of this trip." He let go of Taylor's and Janesha's hands and looked up at the frontage of the PRT building. "Let's go see if we can use common sense and communication to sort all this out."

As they walked in through the front doors, Taylor exchanged a cynical glance with Janesha. She'd believe that, she decided, when she saw it.

* * *

End of Part Nineteen


	21. Chapter 20

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Twenty: Tracking Down Problems

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]_

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

The guards couldn't have been expecting them. Or rather, they _shouldn't_ have been expecting them. But one stepped forward. "Janesha of Mystal?" he asked, the helmet only muffling his tone slightly.

"The one and only," Janesha replied cockily. "Where's Tagg? He's got his dick in a twist about a few inconsequential matters, and I'm here to set the record straight."

"Really, Janesha," Danny griped, and Taylor knew it was about her friend's choice (or lack thereof) of language.

"Colonel Tagg is a busy man." The guard made the statement as if saying _the sky is blue_ or _water is wet._ "You're going to have to make an appointment."

"He's the one been blowing up Danny's phone here trying to make an appointment with me, so I figured I'd save him the time and make it now." She flicked a hand dismissively. "But if that doesn't work for him, he can stay ignorant for all I …" She turned to leave, but Danny caught her by the shoulder, and squeezed.

"Just ... let me try something before we go," he suggested firmly.

Janesha ground her teeth and scowled darkly at the guards. "Fine," she said, turning back around. "This was your dumb idea anyway."

Danny stepped forward towards the guard who had spoken before. "Son, do you know who I am?"

"Hebert. Danny Hebert." The way the guard said it, he was repeating something he'd learned by rote.

"That's right." Danny smiled, showing just a few teeth. "I've been involved in union business since before you were a twinkle in your daddy's eye, and I know bullshit power plays. That's exactly what this is. If Tagg wanted us to make an appointment, he wouldn't have been calling me every five minutes for the past half hour. He's the one who wants to talk to us, and you need to let us go up there _right now_ to give him that opportunity."

The guard moved back half a step and half-raised his containment foam sprayer. "If you attempt to force your way into the building—"

"Fuck this." Janesha threw her hands through the crook of Taylor and Danny's elbows and snapped, "Step."

At her urging, they stepped forward with her, into the crystalline domain of the celestial realm. When they stepped a second time, they were in a well-appointed office. Behind a large desk sat a rangy man in a military uniform with short-cut hair, going grey over the temples, and a tightly-groomed moustache. He had a phone in hand, but the conversation cut off mid-word as they appeared out of nowhere before him.

Hiii," Janesha said. "Janesha of Mystal. You wanted to see me. Here I am."

Tagg slapped a button on his desk, and an alarm began to sound. "Guards!" he bellowed. "Guards!" Apparently believing that the best defense was a good offense, he leaped up from his chair and drew a pistol from a holster at his waist.

Taylor was actually pretty impressed; for someone who'd been taken totally by surprise, his reactions were commendably rapid.

Janesha sighed and stepped backwards towards the door. As boots pounded in the corridor outside, she reached out and laid a hand on the solid wood. A moment later, it became an expanse of riveted steel plate, stretching from one side of the doorframe to the other. The dull thudding from the other side indicated how thick it was.

"On your knees, hands on your heads, or I'll shoot!" Tagg held the pistol in both hands, but his grip was firm and the barrel was steady.

"Knock yourself out, dickhead. It'd make my day if you bled out and died from a ricochet."

"Janesha, please," Danny said, once more attempting to take the lead.

Janesha closed her eyes and ran a tight burst of air through her lips in a blend of a raspberry and a _tch_. "Fine," she growled, unhappily. She looked back at Tagg. " **Put the gun down before you hurt yourself**."

Taylor watched as Tagg laid the pistol on the desk, as if deciding that he didn't need it after all. Glaring at each of them in turn, but reserving most of his ire for Janesha, he took a deep breath. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you are all in right now?"

"Oh, I got the memo," Janesha said, assuringly. "Most of it's outright fuckin' bullshit, but rest assured I got the freakin' memo."

Danny arched an eyebrow, but Janesha shook his query aside. "I'll fill you in later, dad," Taylor whispered.

"Good, so unless you want me to pull out the big guns like the Triumvirate and the Birdcage, I suggest you park it right now, little girl, and start answering a whole lot of questions." Tagg pointed to the chair opposite his.

"Wait, wait." Taylor tried to de-escalate matters as Janesha's chest swelled with rage. "Just in case you hadn't heard, this is Lady Janesha _Nascerdios_ of Mystal." It had smoothed things over before, so it was worth trying again, wasn't it?

"I already knew that." Tagg was no less hostile than before. "She's still broken the law. As have all of you, by invading my office and keeping me prisoner here. And you _will_ answer for it."

"If that's the deep shit you think I'm in, you're a kiddy toddler in a wading pool," Janesha said, rolling her eyes. "If you didn't want to see us, you shouldn't have blown up Danny's phone. But you did, so here we are. And now you want to back-pedal and say we're invading your office? Make up your realms-damned mind, Tagg."

Breathing in heavily through his nostrils, Tagg looked at each of them in turn once more. "Very well. Return my door to its natural state and we'll say no more about it."

Taylor knew damn well that the second Janesha turned that door back to normal, the room would be filled with PRT guards. Nevertheless, she'd seen Janesha and Scion … _Sagun_ socialising like they were old friends, so hopefully Janesha knew what she was doing when she said,

"See? Reason and rationality are their own reward. You only had to ask."

"Janesha," Danny warned, clearly having the same thought process as Taylor.

"Chill, Danny. It's okay. I'm gonna give Tagg's door a bit of an upgrade."

The second the door was reverted to timber, the sound of the handle rattling furiously from the other side filled the room. Then it stopped and was replaced by the heavy _whoomphs_ of people attempting to kick and shoulder it in. Janesha chuckled at their efforts. "The door's still openable with your key, Tagg, but without it, not even Behemoth has the strength to break it down. You're welcome."

That was confirmed when a moment later, a loud thump from outside indicated that the kicker had probably fallen on his ass; Taylor suppressed a snicker.

Janesha turned away from the door, then crossed the room to Tagg's desk and slapped her hand on it, silencing the alarm. "That was beginning to annoy me." Dropping her weight into a chair, she lifted her feet and crossed them at the ankle on the corner of the desk. "So, what did you wanna know?" she asked, slumping back in the chair to keep Tagg in view.

Tagg glared down at her. "Get your god-damned feet off my desk!"

Janesha arched her head backwards and continued to look at him. The longer they stared at each other, the softer Janesha's expression came until she was batting her eyelashes at him. "Lemme hear it …" she said, her grin stretching practically to her ears.

Taylor wondered what was going on. Tagg was turning every colour of red in the spectrum and he leaned forward heavily on his knuckles, swearing furiously under his breath.

His reaction had Janesha grinning all the more. "C'mon, Taggy. It's entirely up to you. You know what you have to say. How bad do you want them down?"

Tagg dragged his nails across the desktop and fisted them, his lips pinched so tightly together they were almost bloodless. " _Please_ ," he finally spat. It was so low and so filled with poison that Taylor wondered how the veneer had remained intact on the desk.

"There you go," Janesha dropped her feet to the floor and sat up properly. Her expression became all business. "Now that the tit-for-tat bullshit powerplay is behind us, what exactly do you want to know?"

Tagg continued to glare at her. "How did you remove Shadow Stalker's powers?"

"With style and panache," Janesha replied without missing a beat. "Next question?"

He made an impatient gesture. "No, what _power_ did you use to do that? Can you do it to capes at range?"

"Ah, _now_ I see what you're getting at." Janesha assumed a beatific expression. "No, I couldn't do everyone at once, even if I wanted to. One on one, when I choose to, I can invoke the power inherent in me as Lady Janesha Nascerdios of Mystal and reach out and unscrew a power from any one person's head. But they have to be right in front of me."

"There is no power inherent in just having a name." Taylor suspected Tagg was grinding his teeth, but he was pretty good at hiding it.

"Sure there is … or would you prefer to be called _Private_ Tagg?" From the gleam in her eye, Janesha was enjoying the _hell_ out of this. "Or _Prisoner_ Tagg? Think you'd get anywhere near as many salutes that way?"

"They are in no way the same thing!"

"True," Janesha agreed, as if deciding to throw him a bone. " _You_ can only get pretend power by assuming your name and title. _We_ get the real thing. Anyway, that's how it's done."

"You said 'we'. Who else is capable of removing powers like you can?"

"Sagun, for starters."

That had Tagg back in his chair, swivelling to face his computer. "And what's this Sagun's last name? Nascerdios?"

Janesha opened her mouth to answer, then frowned thoughtfully and turned to look back at Taylor. "I don't think Sagun ever told us his last name, did he, petal?"

Taylor went over her perfect memories as well, and shook her head. "I think he was in too big a hurry to torture and murder anyone affiliated with Cauldron."

Janesha rasberried again. "That boy's just gettin' warmed up. Two's a nice start, but wait'll he gets his hands on the rest of 'em. Can't say I blame him though."

"No, me either," Taylor agreed. Not that she'd ever had a sibling, let alone a twin, but she could imagine how homicidal she'd go if she had one and what happened to Edeena happened to them.

"I read the file on Shadow Stalker and your young friend here. Be that as it may, why did you remove the powers of so many people today? Surely not _all_ of them were bullying her." Tagg had gone from dismissive to derisive. "I doubt any of them even _knew_ her. Even the ones in the local Protectorate and Wards, apart from Shadow Stalker." His eyes flicked to Taylor. "Have you ever even _met_ Gallant, Battery or Triumph?"

"They probably didn't know Edeena either," Janesha cut in, which was just as well. Taylor hadn't realised how many of the essence thieves were heroes from her hometown. "But that didn't stop them from chomping down on her like she was an all-you-can-eat buffet."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"You heard me. Not one of those bastards was born with their powers. Every one of them was bought and paid for, and you tell me what happens to stolen merchandise once the authorities find out about it? Instead of blubbering about the repossession and sending you in to dog my ass, they should count their lucky stars they're not being done for being _in_ possession of her essence. The penalty for that one's normally death all day long." Looking sideways at Danny, she added, "And I'm not just talking about the specific thief here, either. Black holes are usually involved."

Taylor saw her father turn an ugly shade of white as he swallowed. The idea gave her a queasy feeling as well.

Janesha refocused on Tagg. "So, I called in the nicest person I knew to deal with this, and she decided since those with the stolen powers didn't know the whole story, they got to live. As did everyone else on this rock you call home, who had _absolutely_ nothing to do with it." She looked back at Tagg. "Again, you're welcome, by the way."

Tagg stared at her for so long, Taylor began to wonder if he was still alive in there.

"You don't seriously expect me to believe that, do you?" he finally demanded.

"I don't give a flying …"

"What exactly do you want from us, Colonel Tagg?" Danny asked, sliding his hand over Janesha's shoulder, more for Tagg's sake than hers.

"I want the truth."

Janesha grinned suddenly. When she spoke next, it was in the gravelly tones of a well-known actor. " _You can't handle the truth!_ " It was a perfect imitation of the line from that movie.

Taylor started to laugh. She honestly couldn't help herself. Her father must have thought it was funny too, even if he managed to swallow his amusement and clear his throat a few times.

"Be that as it may," Tagg growled, clearly getting the reference, but showing no sign of humour. "I need the name of the person you called in. There is a process, and she circumvented it when she unilaterally decided the fate of American citizens..."

"Oh, put a sock in it, Tagg." Janesha cut him off briskly. "You're never going to get your hands on her, and trust me, you're better off not trying." This time, she looked at Taylor. "Cousin Col's dad aside, her maternal grandfather, who dotes on her like you wouldn't believe, is the absolute ruler of where Dee comes from," she said, alluding to exactly how screwed Earth Bet, and a whole lot of other places would be if that particular individual took a personal interest in the place.

Taylor didn't need it spelled out any further than that. "Yeah, l-l-let's-let's not do that, thanks," she said, suddenly feeling sick at the mere thought of it. Hell on Earth. _True_ Hell on Earth. _Oh, no thank you._

"Cousin Columbine is soooo above your paygrade, there aren't enough zeros in the world to cover that paycheck," Janesha went on, returning her attention to Tagg.

"Columbine Nascerdios, I assume?"

Janesha laughed. "You're persistent, I'll give you that, Tagg. Suit yourself, I don't care. She went home to …"

"I care!" Taylor shouted out, stepping forward to lean on the table, her eyes fixed on her friend. "You promised you wouldn't destroy our world …"

Janesha patted her friend's hand. "Relax, petal. She's not here. This is just a copy of her world, remember? Tweedledum here can look till the other eight levels of Hell freeze over. He won't find her."

Taylor relaxed and looked back at Tagg, who had his teeth gritted so tightly he was going to have a stroke if he didn't calm down soon. Perhaps that was what Janesha was pushing for. Taylor certainly couldn't rule it out.

"And it's _Lady Columbine Nascerdios_ to you, Tagg. You call her anything else and I'll rip your throat out and make an artwork out of your internals."

That for Tagg, seemed the last straw, and he went once more for his weapon sitting on the table. "I've heard just about enough … _What the hell?_ "

The reason for the outburst was easy to see. Between one second and the next, without even a burst of light to announce his entrance, Scion had appeared in the office. The gold skinned hero looked around the room, and when his eyes settled on Janesha his relief was palpable. "Janesha, do you have anyone else?" he asked plaintively. "Those two barely knew anything at _all._ "

Janesha banged her fists into the arms of her chair as she shot to her feet and rounded on him. "You killed them already? What the hell, Sagun? You only had them an hour! Didn't anyone ever teach you how to torture someone properly?"

"I guess I missed the course on advanced hellish Interrogation Techniques 101," Scion snapped. "Sue me." It was then that he took a good look around the room, and when he did, his gaze narrowed dangerously at Tagg. "Any particular reason you're waving a gun at these good people?"

Tagg looked down at the gun and quickly placed it back on the table.

Scion's gaze shifted back to Janesha. "I _really_ want the rest of those names …" he growled.

"Then you're gonna have to calm down and make these ones count. There aren't too many left, you know."

Scion twisted his lips to one side and looked out the window, away from Janesha. The same way he had when he hadn't liked what Lady Col was telling him.

"I mean it," Janesha emphasised, but then she relaxed and added with a shrug, "But, I suppose I can't ride your ass too hard, since I might've lost it at Eidolon too." With a wry grin, her thumb swung to Taylor and she added, "Though in my defense, she was the one who wanted me to make it quick."

Both the adult human men gasped at what she implied, and Taylor had never felt more like a bug under a microscope than she did at that moment. Her father's stare was especially blistering.

Suddenly, the carpet between her boots was the most interesting thing in the room.

So, of course, Scion drew even more attention to her by saying, "Hey, you were on the walkway."

As Taylor looked up, the golden skinned hero/godling was pointing straight at her, more as an acknowledgement than an accusation.

"Wow, so much for wearing a mask," Taylor snarked. But then she remembered who she was talking to and nodded meekly.

"Heh, a mask isn't going to do much to hide someone's identity from me … whoa, hold the phone." Scion's whole demeanour changed as he walked around behind Janesha with his eyes fixed on Taylor. "Niiiice," he drawled, circling her the way a cattlemen circles livestock. His attention swung back to Janesha. "You gave them Namor upgrades."

Janesha _tch_ ed. "If you say so, nerd-boy."

But Scion wasn't done. He did the same appraising circle of Danny. "No, I'm serious. This is nice work. But how come you didn't give them flight?"

"Because they didn't ask for it … and what makes you think I answer to you anyway? Cheeky prick!"

Scion swivelled on his heel to face Janesha squarely. "For starters, last time I checked, this is _my_ realm. _Mine_. And everything in it; also mine." He flicked a finger to encompass Taylor and Danny. "Including them."

Janesha clenched her fists and threw them into her hips. "And did I, or did I not just get your sister the help she needs, calling in Cousin Col? Hmmm? What's the control of two mort…er…people in the face of that?"

Scion appeared to lose his bluster. "Yeah, that's fair," he said, after a moment of mulling it over. "You can have those two. Just don't take anyone else."

Janesha grinned like a kid on Christmas morning and did a little one legged victory wiggle on the spot. Then she sobered and said, "You can keep the rest of 'em, Sagun. I just wanted these two."

Scion looked at Danny and Taylor curiously, as if trying to figure out why they were so important to her. Without a word, he held out his hand to Danny, who shook it somewhat nervously.

"I-I'm D-Danny Hebert, sir," Danny stammered.

"Sir, huh. I like the sound of that," the golden man said, bobbing his head to himself. "Sagun Hawthorne."

"JUST HOLD ON ONE MOMENT!" Tagg's bellow shook the office.

Everyone turned to look at him.

Janesha quirked an eyebrow upward, but it was Scion who snapped, "What?"

Tagg had his hands clenched again, and Taylor thought he wanted to pull his hair out by the roots. " _What_ in God's name is going on here? What is Scion doing in my office? _Talking_? This _is_ Scion, right? What's a Namor upgrade? And what was that about Eidolon being dead? Who killed him?" He drew a deep shuddering breath. "WHO ARE ALL YOU PEOPLE?"

Predictably, Janesha took point. "It started with a dirty PRT commander, who led me to Eidolon. Eidolon was secretly controlling the Endbringers to attack your world just to make himself look good, so I killed him. In doing so I neutralised the Endbringers. That Simurgh bitch was personal, so I ripped the fake cow to pieces and stomped her out of existence. Again, you're welcome for that, too. As for why Sagun's here …" she turned to the man in question. "It's because … Sagun?"

Scion—Sagun—whatever—scowled. "I want those names." He then glanced at Tagg and added, "Scion's just a name people gave me because I didn't speak up properly when I talked to that one reporter that time. Depression is a bitch like that, and I couldn't be bothered correcting everyone. My real name's Sagun." He took a second, as if to remember what order the questions had been in. "And a Namor upgrade is—"

"Never mind what a goddamn Namor upgrade is," Tagg interrupted, his eyes fixed on Janesha. "You … _executed_ … Eidolon? Did you get any proof of what he was supposed to have done? Did you inform the relevant authorities? Did you do _anything_ except take the law into your own hands?"

There was a blur of motion, and suddenly Sagun was standing in front of Tagg, the desk lying in two splintered heaps to the left and right. He reached out and picked Tagg up by the front of his shirt, effortlessly lifting him until his feet dangled above the floor. While Tagg ineffectually struggled and batted at the glowing golden hand, Sagun moved forward until Tagg encountered the window. Without even a gesture on Sagun's part, the window vanished into vapour, and the golden man held Tagg out the window, over a hundred feet of empty air.

"Listen to me, little man." Sagun was no longer chatty and friendly. His expression was intense to the point that it was frightening, and Taylor wasn't even the person who was being dangled out the window. "Do I have your full attention?"

Tagg choked a little and clawed at Sagun's hand. Predictably, this had zero effect, which was a good thing for the PRT colonel. If he somehow forced Sagun to let him go, what did he think was going to happen next? Taylor wondered absently.

Finally, he seemed to wise up. Still clinging to Sagun's wrist, he nodded feebly. Sagun tilted his head, and brought him back until the toes of his immaculately shined shoes were just able to get a grip on the window ledge. "Are you going to listen to me?" asked the golden man. "Because I really, _really_ hate repeating myself."

His hands wrapped around Sagun's wrist, Tagg nodded again. "Yes," he rasped. "I'm listening."

"Good." Sagun fixed Tagg with a glare even more intense than before. "Janesha does not answer to your puny authority. Eidolon committed many crimes against my people and yours. Crimes that if fairly reported would have seen him tried and convicted to death by any reasonable authority. Janesha found these crimes out and, lest he hurt _one more person_ , she dealt with him swiftly and humanely. So yes, she took the law into her own hands. That was because _she was the only person qualified to do so, at that place and time_. No court in America could have been trusted to do anything but try to find reasons to acquit him for his crimes; I'm certain of that. She's above all that, she took it into account … and she did what she had to do. _Is that understood_?"

For a long, long moment, Tagg met Sagun's eyes in an attempt at defiance, then finally the human yielded. "Yes," he muttered. "It's understood." He took a deep breath, seeming to gain strength through it. "But what did he do that was so terrible? And what did you mean by 'my people'?"

"What part of _he was controlling the Endbringers_ did you not understand?"

"I … I just find it really hard to believe." Tagg spread one hand in a helpless gesture. "I mean, he's … he was … _Eidolon_. You may as well expect Alexandria to be committing a crime as well."

"And that would be the next name on that list you were looking for, big guy," Janesha said cheerfully, as Sagun brought Tagg back into the office and dropped him unceremoniously on his feet.

The golden man swung to face her. "Alexandria," he repeated disbelievingly.

Janesha nodded. "She's also the head of the PRT, which I'm pretty sure is against even their rules. Rebecca Costa-Brown? So, you'll find her up in the PRT headquarters in Washington DC."

Tagg's head also snapped around to stare at her. "You _have_ to be joking," he whispered. "The Director is …"

"… tall, statuesque, icy, gorgeous, with long black hair and a permanent tan," Danny completed. "Interestingly enough, that description also fits Alexandria perfectly. Now, I _know_ they've been seen together in public appearances together, but body doubles are a thing." He shrugged. "I would never have picked it either, but I trust Janesha utterly with things like that."

Janesha buffed her nails on her tunic, then admired them. "Thank you, Danny," she said warmly. "That means a lot to me, coming from you." She switched her attention to Tagg. "I found out from a waste of space calling herself Doctor Mother, and confirmed it with the world's first and only super-powered accountant. The other ones you want are called Contessa, Doormaker and Clairvoyant. There was one other person involved in that group, but I'm not putting him on the list, because those other douchebags hid what they were really doing from him. Seems he was the ethical one of the group, and if he found out what they were doing, he'd have brought the whole organisation down around their ears, or died trying. That gets him the pass."

"Alexandria, Contessa, Doormaker and Clairvoyant," he repeated, memorising the names.

"That's right," Janesha told him. She turned her attention to Tagg. "So yeah, all those people who lost their powers, should be damned grateful they're still alive. Because they shouldn't be. Fruit of the poisonous tree and all that jazz."

"That's for an evidence chain."

"The shoe still fits," Janesha countered.

Sagun lifted himself into the air. "I trust I've made my point adequately," he stated, his entire body beginning to glow, which apparently meant he was ready to leave. "Anyone who wants to mess with Lady Janesha, or her friends, will have me to contend with. Is that perfectly understood, or would you like me to explain matters more thoroughly? Perhaps in orbit around Jupiter?"

"Try on Titan," Taylor offered. "The oceans are nice, if a bit monochrome." She'd dabbled her toes in the freezing liquid the one time she and Janesha had visited, but declined to go for a swim. There was a difference between 'perfectly harmless' and 'perfectly comfortable', and even with her upgrades, she considered three hundred below zero to be pushing the envelope a little.

"I've got the point," Tagg said hastily, straightening his collar. "If I do not leave Janesha of Mystal and her friends alone, you will return. I understand. But you do realise, I'm going to have to follow up on your allegations about Chief Director Costa-Brown," he said. "And when she asks, I'm going to have to tell her who made those allegations about her."

"The whistleblower laws …" began Danny.

"She won't live long enough for that …" Sagun cut in.

Janesha slapped the edge of the table. "What did I tell you about taking your time, you big oaf?"

Sagun smirked at her. "I have three others." He looked from Danny to Taylor. "Be well." With as little fanfare as he'd arrived, he vanished again.

"Umm … D-Did he just say he was going to murder my _commanding officer_?" demanded Tagg, recovering quickly.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Janesha told him scornfully. "She's almost as big a criminal as Eidolon was. And according to Harbinger, she made sure the Triumvirate left the Nine alone, on the off-chance that they might come in useful someday. Which reminds me." She hummed thoughtfully, rubbing at her chin. "Do you guys really need to go home right this second?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here," Danny advised her. "Remember the reason we came here in the first place?"

"Yeah. I do." Janesha fixed Tagg with a steely glare. "You have Armsmaster in Master/Stranger quarantine for the crime of not agreeing to rush straight out and arrest me when you ordered him to. Correct?"

"I had valid grounds for taking you into custody," Tagg from between gritted teeth. "If you had any respect for the rule of law, you would be giving yourself up, right now."

"If _you_ had any respect for the rule of law, you'd be following due process and arranging for an arrest warrant," Danny remarked. "Don't those things really count when it comes to parahumans anymore? Or is it just the teenage ones?"

"No, your first guess was the correct one, Danny." Janesha wrinkled her nose at Tagg. "When it comes to parahumans and the law, the PRT has a whole toolbox full of exceptions they can pull out of their collective asses to get the result they want. ' _For the purpose of public order and safety_ ' is a _very_ wide umbrella when it has to be. Plus quite a few that basically boil down to ' _because we want to make an example of someone'_. Like that singer, Canary? The trial hasn't even started yet and it's already an open secret in some parts of the PRT that it's a done deal; her feathered ass is going in the Birdcage." She rolled her eyes. "And don't get me started on their spin on Kill Orders."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "I'm just going to say, Janesha, you don't strike me as being all that squeamish about people being summarily executed."

She blew a small raspberry. "I don't. But everyone where _I_ come from knows the score. Mess up, annoy the people in power, and you'll get landed on by a ton of trouble, up to and including death. The bit that's pissing me of is how for the last few millennia you've been fighting and clawing and _dying_ to establish a rule of law that's supposed to apply to everyone, top to bottom, without fear or favour. Everyone's supposed to get the chance to defend themselves and nobody's supposed to be shafted too badly. But this prick and his entire organisation have set it up so if any parahuman puts a foot out of line, absolutely anything can be done to them in the name of public safety, or just because these dickheads feel like it. Like Cousin Cora would say, that's not fair."

"Parahumans can be far more dangerous than ordinary humans if they go out of control." Tagg's voice was low and deadly. "We have to instil what laws we can in order to make them think twice before lashing out at those around them."

"Yeah, like the Birdcage, which has no appeal process, so they'll fight ten times as hard not to be sentenced there," jeered Janesha. "And did you idiots even _think_ the mechanism of Kill Orders through, or did you just scribble something down and knock off for the day? Anyone can kill someone with a Kill Order, and they're guaranteed to be able to claim the reward without being arrested for their own crimes. So, we might have some psycho who blows away a dozen false positives before nuking a small town just to get the right guy. He shows up with the proof that the Kill Order recipient is dead. By your rules, you can't arrest him for outright murdering twenty thousand people just to make one guy dead. _And_ you have to pay him the reward."

"He would then earn a Kill Order of his own for his crimes—"

"And if he made up a masked identity to claim the reward, because he's not stupid? Which he then changes out for _another_ masked identity, to go after the next Kill Order?" Janesha shook her head. "You're encouraging mass murder by masked killers, to prevent more _potential_ mass murder by masked killers. How is this in the least bit a workable plan?"

From the lemon-sucking expression on Tagg's face, he would dearly have loved to throw a rebuttal into Janesha's face, but he didn't seem to have one at that moment.

"Okay, I think you've torn down his worldview enough for the moment," Danny suggested. "Back to Armsmaster?"

"Yeah, Armsmaster." Janesha was still facing Tagg. "Since Armsmaster hasn't been Mastered, I'd appreciate it if you let him go about his business."

Tagg twisted his lip and glowered at Janesha. "As if I'm going to take _your_ word on who's been Mastered and who hasn't been."

Janesha sighed. " **Give me your phone** ," she ordered.

Without demur, Tagg handed it over.

Holding it up, Janesha asked, "Is this your phone?"

"Of course it is!" snapped Tagg.

"Did I steal it from you?"

"No. I gave it to you."

"Why?"

Tagg frowned. "Because you asked me to."

"Told you to," Janesha corrected him. "Why would you, a ranking PRT officer with a phone presumably stuffed full of secrets, hand said phone over to a teenage cape whom you don't trust one inch? What _possible_ reason could you have for doing so?"

"I decided it couldn't hurt," Tagg declared. "There's no way you can guess the password, so it's safe to humour you just this once."

"Miranda seven one zero four one six, with the 'I' in Miranda replaced by a one," Janesha recited without missing a beat. "Your oldest daughter's name and your wife's birthday plus one day, one month and one year." As she spoke, she tapped it into the phone. "Huh. The PRT logo as a homepage screen. You're really serious about them."

Tagg went red and white by turns. "Give me that back right now!" he snapped, lunging at Janesha.

"Sure." Janesha handed it over again. "Now, the point of this little charade is that if I had Mastered you into releasing Armsmaster from Master/Stranger quarantine at any time, you'd have done it without question. But I didn't. I'm giving _you_ the choice to do the right thing."

His chest swelling, Tagg gritted his teeth. "I would not have—"

" **Give the order for Armsmaster to be released from Master/Stranger quarantine** ," Janesha commanded.

"Certainly," Tagg said at once. Holding his phone to his ear, he said, "Give me Master/Stranger holding. Immediately."

" **Stop**."

Tagg paused.

"Why are you releasing Armsmaster from Master/Stranger holding?"

"Because you've convinced me that he's not under Master influence," Tagg said at once.

Janesha let out a tiny sigh. "Fine. Keep going."

As Tagg spoke on the phone, Janesha turned to Taylor and Danny. "I tried," she said quietly. "I really tried. There's no reasoning with the man."

"What was that bit with his phone?" asked Danny.

"Normally, people can rationalise away a Bender command as something they thought of themselves," Janesha reminded him. "I thought with the Master protocols the PRT has, he'd maybe recognise the signs of being Mastered in himself. But mortal brains just can't analyse celestial influence. He kept on editing it out and forcing his brain to come up with reasonable excuses. I could've made him put a video of him dancing the can-can on PHO and he would've had an explanation for doing it."

Taylor smirked. "So tempting to ask you to do just that …"

"... but we're not going to encourage you to abuse your powers," Danny finished firmly. "Reversing his sanction on Armsmaster, I'm good with, because even though he's an overbearing, officious ass, I still don't want to see him turned into something unfortunate because he pushed you too far. Humiliating him for no actual purpose, I'm not good with. And in any case, the moment he reviews the footage from his security cameras, he's going to be twisting himself in knots trying to figure out exactly _why_ he did those things."

"Meh," Janesha said, dismissively.

Tagg ended the call and turned back to Janesha. "I've given the order," he said. "Armsmaster will be cleared from Master/Stranger quarantine in fifteen minutes."

"Good." Janesha nodded. "Do you have any idea where we might find the Slaughterhouse Nine? I was thinking I might pay them a visit."

"The Oregon National Guard clashed with them … barely half an hour ago," Tagg said, checking his watch. "Unusually for them, they fled instead of attacking. The National Guard commander wasn't sure why."

"I think I know why," Taylor said. When the other three looked at her inquisitively, she shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? That was about the time Lady Columbine was pulling the powers back into Edeena. If the Nine had one or more members with Cauldron powers, suddenly losing that firepower would shake them badly."

"Hah, yeah, that fits." Janesha grinned and offered Taylor a high-five. "Oregon, huh? I wonder …"

"What are you thinking?" asked Danny.

"I'm thinking that it would be a lot easier to cover the ground with Cloudstrike, but she can only take two riders at most." Janesha twisted her lips to the side. "So we'll drop you home, go find the bad guys, then come get you when it's time to kick some ass."

Tagg cleared his throat. When Taylor looked around, he had an uncomfortable expression on his face.

"Yeah, what is it now?" asked Janesha. "Gonna tell me I'm not cleared to go mop up some unrepentant scum that should've been atomised twenty years ago?"

"Not … precisely." Tagg grimaced. "Even if they've been reduced by the power losses, the Nine have a reputation for making it very expensive to attack them. I know you're both capes. Miss Janesha, but …"

"Lady Janesha."

Tagg paused. " _Lady_ Janesha, I've seen how powerful you are. I would still be remiss in my duties if I failed to urge you to reconsider your decision, or at least be very careful in how you go about it."

"Huh." Janesha tilted her head to one side as she looked at Tagg. "Careful there. You might have me thinking you're a worthwhile human being after all." She tapped her foot on the floor; Taylor saw her screw the toe down slightly, as though she were grinding out a cigarette butt. Behind Tagg, the pieces of the desk flowed together then rebuilt itself, the computer sitting in the middle and the papers all stacked to one side. "You're totally welcome."

Tagg looked around, startled. Before he had a chance to speak, Janesha grabbed Taylor with one hand and Danny with the other. Used to this move by now, Taylor stepped forward with her. Danny was quick off the mark, and did the same on the other side. They went up into the celestial realm, and came out in Danny's living room.

"So now I wait?" asked Danny, raising one eyebrow. "While my daughter and her altogether-too-powerful best friend go and locate Jack Slash?"

Janesha smirked. "Just powerful enough, Danny Hebert. If you want ridiculous levels of celestial power, you've gotta look higher up the pecking order than me. But yeah, that's about right."

"You sure you still want in on this, Dad?" Taylor put her arm around her father. "You don't have to come along if you don't want to."

He snorted. "You have to be kidding. I've got the same modifications as you, don't I? You got to go fight the Simurgh. Give me the chance to face off against at least _one_ terrifying monster before we're done, all right?"

Janesha put her hand on his arm. "You've already done that, Danny. Remember?" She nodded to where the tiny statuette of the talot sat on the bookshelf. "Talots are far more dangerous than construct monsters or empowered humans. You have nothing to prove to either of us."

This time, he let out an aggravated sigh. "I'm not trying to _prove_ a damn thing. I just want to get my licks in before it's all over. I want the chance to fight something when I've got a chance of beating it, instead of just annoying and distracting it."

Surprising Taylor, Janesha laughed out loud. "Danny Hebert, sometimes you can be so infuriatingly _human_ that I want to scream. But sometimes you're so Mystallian you may as well have been born there. Certainly we'll come and get you once we find them."

* * *

To say that Jack Slash was unhappy would be to perpetrate a massive understatement. He was, by turns, nervous and furious. Scared; never. Any chance of him simply feeling fear had long since been burned away by his long career in delivering fear (sometimes quite briefly) to others. He had gotten used to being the one who danced between the raindrops, who came out on top, who always out-guessed the most dangerous of foes.

But he _really, really, really_ did want to know what had happened to the absent members of the Nine. Shatterbird, not so much. She was, when he came down to it, a one-trick pony, and her one trick had begun to grate on him. But the Siberian had been so very _useful._ Not only as an instrument of inflicting fear (at which she was almost as good as him) but also keeping his Bonesaw calm and happy, and of course ensuring that any rude attempts at ending his life were futile.

So where had she gone? Who had so adroitly removed her (and Shatterbird) from the board and yet failed to capitalise on their sudden advantage? He hadn't spotted any capes or even Tinkertech being wielded by the National Guard forces. A frown crossed his face as he recalled Shatterbird's warning to retreat. _What did she see? What did she know? **How** did she know?_

It was a puzzle, a mystery, a conundrum for the ages.

He _hated_ puzzles.

"Mr. Jack?" He looked down at Bonesaw. She appeared just a little lost. Having her adopted mother-figure vanish from under her might have that effect, he supposed.

"What is it, poppet?" He put on his best 'careless Jack' attitude. _Never let them see you sweat._

"Where's Siberian?" That was little kids for you. No beating about the bush. Just straight-up ask the difficult questions. He was just glad that she knew enough about human anatomy and biology to make giving her the Talk unnecessary, not to mention redundant. Some things were too horrible for even a ruthless supervillain to face.

"Well, just between you and me, I'm not entirely certain." He smiled at her, injecting all his dash and verve and vigour into it. "But just so you know, I got along just fine long before she joined the Nine, and until she decides to show up again, we'll get along just fine without her. 'Cause we're tough and smart, right?"

Just for a moment, she gave him a look that was entirely too grown-up for his liking, then it morphed into a guileless smile. "Sure we are, Mr Jack!"

As she skipped away to join Burnscar on the other side of their makeshift campsite, he sent a suspicious gaze at her back. It didn't feel like she was planning anything against him, but he didn't like even the level of deception he'd just seen.

Then he totally forgot about her, because something flickered at the corner of his sight. He looked around, but there was nothing there. Fortunately for his mental equilibrium, Hatchet Face and Burnscar were also looking at the sky. "Did you see that?" he called out. Without even thinking about it, he took a knife into each hand.

"Just a blur in the sky," Burnscar said. "Didn't see anything else."

"Fast moving, straight line—shit, there it goes again!" Hatchet Face pointed, but by the time his arm straightened, there was nothing to see.

Jack was impressed. Whatever it was had an airspeed so fast it should be leaving sonic booms, but it wasn't.

"What is it?" asked Burnscar. "Whatever it is, it's _fast._ "

"Trouble," Jack said automatically. It was a safe bet; when you made your living as an S-class threat, anything new and unusual in the area was by definition trouble.

The thing whipped overhead one more time, so fast that he didn't even have time to bring up his knife to project a cutting-field into the air ahead of it. It was so fast that he started to blink, and it appeared and was gone before he had time to finish the action.

Lifting up both knives, he projected their fields upward so that if the thing overflew them again, it would possibly encounter his blades.

But it didn't come over again. Instead, something else happened.

"Hey! You!" It was a strange voice, coming from the treeline. He whipped around. Three people stood there; two teenage girls and a tall, skinny adult. The girls were costumed, but the guy was in civvies.

The girl in black with the fluttering cloak folded her arms. "Yeah, you. Jack Slash. I want a _word._ "

* * *

End of Part Twenty


	22. Chapter 21

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part Twenty-One: There's Always Another Mess

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Karen Buckeridge, author of **Ties That Bind** (re-releasing soon in second edition) and **The Long Way Home** (out soon).]_

* * *

 **Jack Slash**

* * *

"Words with _me_? Really? You're pretty bold for two teenage girls and an _accountant_ , facing the Nine." Jack was barely aware of the words he was speaking. They were just for colour, intended only to keep his opponent distracted while he figured out his next move. He hadn't survived so long as leader of the Nine by jumping feet-first into fights with unknown capes. What the guy actually was, he didn't know, but he was skinny and had glasses, so 'accountant' was Jack's best guess.

A major part of his strategy was to research his chosen enemies ahead of time, and plan according to their weaknesses. He didn't know these three, which was a problem. A bigger problem was that they had clearly sought out his team in his hour of weakness, which meant that they were very confident, very good or very lucky … or some combination of all three, which he didn't like in the slightest.

Yet another problem was that when he was going face to face with capes (a situation he actually tended to avoid as needlessly risky) he could usually go with his gut on how to deal with them. Somehow, he always knew just the right thing to say to put them off-balance, and of course he was a past master of anticipating how they were going to try to take him down. He'd had enough experience with the Nine from the very beginning, so actual heroic capes were a walk in the park.

Except … his extemporaneous speech was over, and he still hadn't gleaned any insights on how to deal with them. Their stances weren't giving him clues about what powers they were about to unleash, or which way he should jump to avoid them. Their lack of weapons and the dark-skinned girl's costume said that they were capes; or at least, she was.

"Nine, huh?" the dark-skinned girl smirked, poking her tongue against her cheek as her eyes made a point of stopping on each of the remaining Nine. "Your maths that shit?"

The girl in the bug suit snorted, and even the accountant pinched his lips to hide the grin.

The loss of Siberian and Shatterbird still stung, but fortunately, even with this temporary setback, he had a solution to his problem.

Overwhelming force.

"Burnscar." That was all he needed to say. Anticipating his need, she created a wall of flame that raced away across the ground, arcing around in a circle that penned in the three intruders. Flames began to crackle as the forest caught light behind them, but that wasn't his problem. The two girls and the man didn't seem particularly bothered by their predicament, which irritated him more than a little. He liked his opponents to be scared. Fear rattled most people, causing them to make mistakes, which he could then capitalise upon.

No matter. It was time to send his next big hitters into the fray. "Hatchet Face, Mannequin. All yours." Combining the stereotypical Brute capability with the ability to nullify powers, the brutal cape was perfect for taking down unknown factors, simply by making them irrelevant and then hacking them to pieces. By contrast, Mannequin could tank most hits, and shred any non-Brute opponent, even ones he hadn't specifically modified his armour to deal with.

Surreptitiously, Jack let a knife slide down his sleeve into his hand. Cheating was one thing (which he could say that they'd done, by turning up so unexpectedly) but he wasn't against stacking the deck a little. As the hulking cape and the white-armoured Tinker stepped through the wall of flame and headed for their prospective victims, Jack brought the knife up and flicked his power into action. He didn't seriously expect to do any real harm to them, but he'd take any win that he could get.

As he'd half-expected, the knife didn't do anything, but that didn't matter. With a confident grin on his face, he folded his arms, waiting for Hatchet Face and Mannequin to either finish the job or for the capes to flee from them.

A frown crossed his face as the girl in the bug-themed outfit turned to her black-costumed counterpart. A few words were exchanged, then the slender teenager started forward to meet Hatchet Face with a determined step. The massive cape, grinning savagely, raised the axe he habitually carried and brought it down in a brutal arc. There was no way she could survive this; whatever powers she was depending on to withstand the blow would have been cancelled by Hatchet Face's proximity, and it would be purely impossible for her to—

She caught it.

Jack _knew_ how strong Hatchet Face was. The man could pick up a car if he so wished. He'd brought the axe down in a vicious sweep, powerful enough to drive through the girl's skull and continue all the way until she was cloven in half. But she'd raised one slim hand and— _with no apparent effort_ —caught the handle of the axe. Stopped it dead. Veins bulged in Hatchet Face's neck as he tried to force it downward, but he may as well have been trying to shove Mount Rushmore aside.

Even as Jack's jaw dropped and his brain tried its hardest to re-evaluate its knowledge to fit what he'd just seen, the girl took one step forward and punched Hatchet Face. Ordinarily, this was a move almost guaranteed to result in a broken hand, especially given the lack of expertise obvious in the blow. If she'd ever spent any time fighting, Jack would've been most astonished. But not as astonished as he was when Hatchet Face flew backward from the blow, going airborne right across the clearing, until he hit the trunk of a tree some fifteen feet above the ground. There was a _crack_ that didn't sound good for Hatchet Face's survival prospects, then he flopped to the ground and lay still.

Mannequin activated the spinning blades on one arm, and sent the other out to snag the dark-skinned girl. Jack could see his reasoning; the girls, in costume, were the dangerous ones. But in a surprising blur of motion, _she_ grabbed _Mannequin's_ arm and started pulling, hard.

"C'mere, you!" she snarled. Chain rattled as she gave it one last haul that ended in a _clang_ as she yanked the entire winding mechanism out of his shoulder. "Fuck! You weren't supposed to break!"

"Language," The accountant chipped.

The girl paused and turned away from Mannequin as if he meant nothing to her to give the accountant what Jack assumed was a look of disgust. At the very least, he was certainly wearing one. Who the fuck said, 'Language' anymore?

Still shaking her head when it became apparent the accountant wasn't backing off, the teenager in black ran back towards Mannequin, and with a leap that defied logic, she was eye level with the Tinker, upper-cutting him under the jaw hard enough to make his 'head' fly off.

On the downward arc of her jump, she hooked her hands inside Mannequin's torso armour. It all happened so fast Jack's eyes could barely keep up with the action. Mannequin still had one arm which he brought around in an attempt to fillet her with the spinning blades. They were entangled in the girl's cape as effectively as any deliberate restraint, all without taking any damage.

Then, as gravity pulled her to the ground, she ripped the two halves of Mannequin's armour apart, and smashed them back together once her feet were on the ground. The white armour shattered, causing the Tinker's brain and other vital organs to fall to the ground. Bereft of his life support system, Jack knew, he would die in moments.

This was rapidly becoming an untenable situation. "Crawler!" shouted Jack, then grabbed Bonesaw's hand. Gathering in Burnscar by eye, he indicated the far treeline. "Set _everything_ on fire," he ordered. "We need cover, now."

Even as Crawler charged the two girls with a roar, Jack turned … and came face to face with the tall skinny accountant. Burnscar sent a wash of flame over the guy but he stepped forward without seeming to notice it. As the flames receded, several of Bonesaw's spider-bots came out of nowhere and swarmed up the guy's legs, jabbing him with their mechanical injectors.

He ignored everything.

"Just for the record," he said almost mildly as he grabbed a spider-bot and crushed its body effortlessly in one hand, "I'm not an accountant. I'm the head of hiring for the Dockworkers' Association. Not that I expect you to understand the difference."

Jack Slash swung his blade back and forth, back and forth, ignoring the fact that he was shredding Bonesaw's other spider-bots. Bonesaw sent darts loaded with the most potent neurotoxins Jack had ever heard of flying into the skinny guy's exposed skin. Burnscar held out both hands and sent a concentrated blast of flame into his face.

None of it made a damned bit of difference.

The ground began to shake. Briefly turning his head, Jack saw the girl in the black costume and cape holding Crawler by one leg and repeatedly beating him against the ground. The other girl was strolling in their direction, twirling Hatchet Face's axe idly in one hand. "Need a hand, Dad?" she called out.

 _'Dad?'….ahhhh._ Now he understood the 'language' swipe, although that wasn't exactly a priority right now.

"No, I got this." 'Dad' almost casually reached out and shoved both Bonesaw and Burnscar, sending them sprawling to the ground. "I don't like hitting women," he said conversationally. "The girls can deal with those two. You, on the other hand …"

Jack broke the paralysis that had briefly afflicted his limbs, occasioned by the sight of his team being utterly disassembled before his eyes. He tried to dart backward, out of reach of the man who could apparently ignore fire and being injected with all sorts of poisons and diseases. If he could make it to the treeline, the burgeoning forest fire could provide him with cover—

"Uh, uh." He'd taken his eye off the bug-girl behind him, and now she shoved him forward, back toward her father. "Dad wasn't finished with you yet."

Just as he tried to twist away, Jack felt his wrist being seized by the older man. The grip was like iron, far more powerful than anyone he'd ever tussled with before. Talking had always worked before, so he tried again. "You know, we could always discuss this like reasonable people—MOTHERFUCKER!"

The reason for the outburst was because the man had _squeezed,_ and Jack felt several (undoubtedly important) bones in his wrist go _crunch_ in a way that didn't sound (or feel) entirely healthy. In fact, it hurt like a sonovabitch. Still, in the extremity of his pain, he liked to think he was a fighter. The knife was still in his other hand, and he stabbed forward with it, up and under the ribcage.

Where it stopped, cold. Indenting the cloth, indenting the skin, but not going anywhere.

Before he could try again, perhaps for the eyes, that wrist was also taken captive. "We're not going to talk, Jack." Despite being a weedy accountant type with a weak chin and receding hair, the man had the coldest eyes Jack had ever seen. "You're just going to die. Do you know why you're going to die?"

"Boredom, if we're laying odds," the dark-skinned girl suggested in the black costume and cape as she strolled over. "I know that's what I'm about to die of, just watching it anyway. Come on, Danny. I'll take over if it bothers you too much…"

The man called Danny drew in a deep breath, then released it in a sigh of exasperation. "I'm _fine_ , thank you, Janesha. And I will do this my way, because I've earned it. Understood?"

Janesha held both hands in a carefree surrender. He turned his attention back to Jack. "Brockton Bay. You showed up there, in the nineties. You killed people. Remember?"

Jack blinked, taken aback by the abrupt change in subject. "Uh … not really? Listen, if you think I remember everything I did over the course of one week, twenty years ago—"

"He really doesn't," the caped girl broke in. "It's all one big blur to him. Except the fact that Marquis defied him. He's still pissed about that."

Danny's eyes went to the sky for a moment and his next breath was a short huff. " _Thank_ you, Janesha." He then glared at Jack. "When you came to town, you killed friends of mine. It's not the only reason I'm doing this now, you sonovabitch, but it's a good one."

"Yeah, you and every other—" Jack began to jeer, but Danny didn't seem to be listening anymore. Letting go Jack's wrists, he grabbed him by the shoulder with his left hand, then pulled his right hand back and speared it forward. Jack felt his breastbone splinter, following by the unique sensation of Danny's hand closing around his heart and yanking it out of his chest. Indescribable pain followed.

Fortunately (for a very specific definition of the word) it didn't last long.

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

"Really?" Janesha raised an eyebrow at Danny, who was wiping his hand clean—or relatively so—on his shirt. Jack Slash's heart lay a foot or so away from the man's supine body, the sturdy muscle crushed and pulped by the force that had been needed to hold on to it.

The look of surprise on the serial killer's face was gratifyingly astonished. He had to have known he would come to a violent end sooner or later, but having his heart torn out probably wasn't high on his list.

"What?" asked Danny. "He was a mass murderer. What's your problem?"

Janesha stalked closer. "My _problem_ , Danny Hebert, is that you've been riding my ass from day one about respecting life and all that bullshit, and then you do _this_? That's it. From now on, you don't get to judge me."

"What?" Danny stared at her. "That's totally different! The Nine had a Kill Order. I could've ripped his head off in the lobby of the PRT building, and the only problem they'd have would be with the mess I made. Killing them is literally a public service. It's definitely not illegal."

"Pfft, do I look like I care about local mortal rules?" Janesha folded her arms. "Admit it, you're a hypocrite. I'm not allowed to kill, but you are? Puh-leeze."

From the way he was grinding his teeth, Danny was getting irritated. "Did I have a problem with you killing Mannequin and Crawler? No. I still don't. In this one instance, killing is not only acceptable but preferable."

"Like I said …"

"I'M NOT BEING A HYPOCRITE!"

"Dad … Dad … Janesha … Chill!" Taylor raced between them and held her arms out to keep them apart. "I mean it! Chill!"

For the longest time, both stared at each other. It must've killed her father to be the one to finally break that glaring contest, when he realised Janesha could literally keep that pose for centuries. Instead, he looked at where Bonesaw and Burnscar lay on the ground unmoving, and frowned. "I didn't think I pushed them that hard."

"You didn't." Janesha looked down at the girl and the young woman pensively. "I went into their minds with every intention of turning them into … fruit?"

"Vegetables," Taylor corrected, without even thinking about it.

"Yeah, vegetables. And anyway, I saw … stuff. So I didn't kill them immediately."

"Stuff?" asked Taylor. "That's not very informative."

Janesha crossed her eyes and poked her tongue out at Taylor and it took everything Taylor had not to grin in victory. "Burnscar's the way she is because she's got a cross-wiring with her emotions. The more she uses her flame, the more she _wants_ to use her flame and the less empathy she has. Bonesaw … well, Bonesaw was six when Jack Slash got hold of her. Relatively fresh trigger, emotionally vulnerable. Him and the rest of the Nine killed her parents and brother and dog in front of her a dozen times until she couldn't handle it anymore, and gave up. Slash used that as a way to convince her that she was actually a killer like him, and he's been reinforcing that mindset ever since."

Taylor thought that through. "So … if you take away their powers, Burnscar wouldn't even want to kill people anymore? And you're saying Bonesaw is more a victim than a monster?"

"Oh, she's a monster all right." Janesha passed off the question with a flip of her hand. "Where I come from, that's not exactly a deal-breaker. But she was _made_ into a monster, instead of choosing to be one. There's a big difference, right there."

"So, what are you saying, exactly?" Taylor looked at Bonesaw, then Burnscar. "You're going to take away their powers and … what, fix what's wrong in their heads?"

Janesha shook her head. "No. Several reasons. First, all I'd be able to do is adjust their memories to whatever I wanted them to be, and to tell them what to believe. That actually fixes a lot less than you'd think. It doesn't even touch their emotions. Suppose a man loves a woman with all his heart. If I removed every memory he had of that woman, when he met her that emotion would still find a way to express itself. Bonesaw's so fucked in the head by Jack's manipulation that if I just made her forget everything, she'd still be fucked in the head but now she wouldn't know why. No, this needs a Weaver to fix."

Danny raised his eyebrows. "Lady Columbine? Won't she be busy helping Edeena?"

"Yeah. She will be." Janesha smiled fondly. "She's always busy, but she's always willing to make time. Cousin Col's pretty amazing like that."

Taylor didn't know if Janesha should be so confident. "But will she be willing to make time to help two mortals who have killed so many people?"

"Remember who I said her maternal grandfather was?"

"You didn't."

"Well, I definitely mentioned her kids by designation. Remember what they were called, and connect the dots."

Taylor frowned, going over the various memories. And then the title came to her with all the finesse of a trainwreck. "You called them antichrists."

"Her grandfather is the devil himself?" If she hadn't had Danny's attention already, she had it now.

"The real one," Janesha confirmed. "Supreme ruler of all Hell. Her uncle on that side is literally the archangel of vengeance who would skin you alive if you've ever done anything to deserve payback from anyone. And he's one of the nicest ones."

Danny frowned. "I understand all that, but I'm not sure why you're bringing it up now."

"Lord Belial's main purpose is to ensure endless torment for every mortal soul that ends up in Hell," Janesha explained patiently. "Cousin Col doesn't care. She loves him unconditionally, just as she does Lord Uriel. Whatever atrocities Bonesaw and Burnscar have perpetrated since they got their powers, it's _nothing_ compared to what either one of those can do if they decide it has to be done."

"Ah." Danny blinked. "I see. That puts everything neatly into perspective."

"It does, doesn't it?" Janesha bent and picked Bonesaw up. "I'll be back in a second. I just need to take them into the celestial realm so I can detach—"

That was when Taylor got an idea. Like many great ideas, and quite a few really bad ones, it came to her in a flash of inspiration. "Wait a second, Janesha. Quick question."

On the verge of stepping, Janesha stopped and looked at her. "Shoot."

"Can you tell if her powers made her psychotic or if it was Jack?" It might be a great idea, but Taylor wasn't going to be _stupid_ about it.

Janesha frowned and looked down at the girl in her arms. "As far as I can see, it was all Jack. Why?"

This was the tipping point, the big reveal. "When you take the powers away from her, can you give them to someone else? Like me?"

Both Danny and Janesha stared at her for a moment, then Janesha raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't like having powers, petal."

Taylor folded her arms. "I don't like the way I got them, and they never solved any of my problems, and I'm really not sure I like playing god over any bugs that happen to be in my area, but being able to control bugs isn't going to do me any good if someone's hurt or dying near me. With her power, I could help people a lot more than I can now."

"Huh." Janesha nodded slowly. "You never cease to amaze me."

"Wait just a moment," Danny interjected. "Is this even safe? Can Taylor take having two sets of powers attached to her?"

"Safe as I can make it," Janesha assured him, then turned back to Taylor. "Yeah, sure, I can plug them into your head once I disconnect them from little miss murder munchkin here." She grinned mischievously. "Did you want the other one's power as well, while we're at it?"

Taylor snorted. "If I recall, you told me that it was her flame powers that screwed her up. That's a hard pass on that one."

"Suit yourself." Janesha indicated Burnscar's unconscious body. "If you're coming along for the ride, make yourself useful and grab her for me, will you?"

"Definitely." It was the work of a moment to drape the limp supervillain over her shoulder, then Taylor stepped up alongside Janesha. "Ready when you are."

Janesha nodded, taking her hand. "And … _step_." Taylor took the pace alongside her, wondering when she'd gotten used to the transition into the crystalline landscape.

"All right, I've never attached powers to anyone, so I'll do Burnscar first and get that out of the way." Dumping Bonesaw unceremoniously on the ground, Janesha went to where Taylor was holding the pyrokinetic. Taking hold of the shining cord where it attached to Burnscar's head, she concentrated and twisted her wrist oddly. The cord came free, and Janesha let it go to whip away between the crystals.

"That's done. Now for the fun one." Going over to Bonesaw, Janesha knelt next to her and detached her cord as well. However, this one she did not release. "Come over here, petal."

Trepidation building in her, despite the fact that she'd asked for this, Taylor went to where Janesha was waiting. The end of the cord held a weird shimmery effect that Taylor had trouble focusing on. "Do I want to know why that's the way it is?"

"I'm not entirely certain I could explain it to you in terms that you could understand. Hold still." Leaning forward, Janesha pressed the end of the cord against Taylor's head, and

 **tw**

 **is**

 **ted**

it into place.

From Taylor's point of view, it was a very weird experience. It felt like she'd been experiencing double vision, which had suddenly snapped into perfect focus. Or maybe she'd been living life with one eye, and had now been granted a second one. Either way, she had a whole new perspective on things.

"How's it feel?" asked Janesha.

"Freaky." A few bugs had ridden along with her into the celestial realm, and even her control over them felt weird, as the feedback she got from each bug became much more detailed. This extended to what they were looking at, including other bugs. Or herself. She looked down at the two supervillains, now safely depowered, and blinked as more information suggested itself to her. Then she looked at Janesha; for about half a second, her new power struggled to define Janesha in biological terms before it did the equivalent of saying, ' _Haha, nope_ ,' and reverted back to ordinary vision for her.

"Freaky good or freaky bad? If this is a problem for you, I'll take it out again." Janesha looked critically at Taylor. "It doesn't _seem_ to be making your head explode or anything. Are you feeling any more psychotic than normal?"

"No, not psychotic." Taylor shook her head. "Or at least, I don't think so. But I'm a whole lot more aware of biology than I was before. I'm pretty sure I can make bugs do surgery on each other now. Actual surgery, rather than just ripping each other apart."

Janesha raised an eyebrow slightly and smirked. "Well, whatever amuses you, petal. Let's get back to your dad, and then I've gotta contact Sagun."

"Sagun? Why?" Taylor picked up Burnscar and slung the unconscious ex-supervillain over her shoulder. "I thought you and him had sorted things out as far as me and Dad were concerned." It still sounded weird to be talking about the celestial she'd always known as Scion in this way, like he was just another person. It was even weirder that she'd met the guy and he'd _acted_ like just another person.

"I've just got to make sure he's okay with us handing these two over to Cousin Col." With Bonesaw in her arms, Janesha took Taylor's hand. "And … step." As they emerged into the sunlit clearing where the Nine had met their end, she kept talking. "Killing off these morons was one thing, but taking mortals out of Earth Bet and sending them on to Earlafaol is something we actually have to notify him about. I doubt he'll get pissy, but there are courtesies we have to observe."

"That took longer than I expected," Danny said as he got up from the rock he'd been sitting on. "Complications?"

"No, we just took our time." Taylor dropped Burnscar on the ground. "Holy shit, Dad, your posture's for crap. Why didn't you tell me about the neck pains?"

"Neck pains?" Danny had barely enough time to ask the question. "What neck pa—whoa!"

In the time he'd taken to ask the question, she came up to him and spun him around. Grabbing hold of his shoulders, she leaped lightly into the air, jammed her knee into his back between his shoulder-blades, and _pulled_. There was a solid _crunch_ , then she let him go and dropped to the ground again.

"Those neck pains," she explained as she headed back to Burnscar.

"Huh," muttered Danny as he ran his hand over his neck. "I'd had that for so long I totally forgot it was there. Thanks. Uh … how did you know to do that?"

"Bonesaw's power, duh." Taylor grinned at him, then turned back to Janesha. "If Sagun did get pissy … what would happen then?"

"Well, for starters, he'd probably tell me to get the fuck out of his realm. He's already relinquished you two to me, so you'd have to come with." Janesha grimaced. "And there's not a whole lot of options for places to go that my family wouldn't zero in on me shortly thereafter."

"Sagun … oh, right. Scion." Danny looked from Taylor to Janesha. "Could he force the issue if you decided not to go? I mean, we both know it won't get that far, but I'm a little curious."

"You're damn right he could force the issue." Janesha snorted. "I might have ranged mindbending over him, but he's got attunement and establishment on his side, which means he's got all the powers people believe he's got."

"Which is a lot," agreed Danny.

"A whole fuckton." Janesha twisted her lips. "But he doesn't need to confront me over it. Even if he didn't feel like tapping into his attunement and having the whole world turn against me, all he has to do is get in touch with my family, and tell them exactly where I am. There's a few different branches of the family with ties to the Olympians. One bloodlink later, and I'd have all the elders standing around me faster than a planned intervention, and a lot less pleasant. So I'm not gonna go there."

"Okay, how do we locate him to get permission?" Danny raised his eyebrows. "As I recall, the last time you went looking for him, it didn't turn out as expected."

"Yeah, well, _then_ he kept running away from me, for what reason I have _no_ idea, but now? He's got the rest of Cauldron to locate and ask questions of, which means he won't be doing his usual public heroics." Janesha glanced at the girl in her arms and stood her on her feet; Bonesaw just stayed standing there. She blew out a breath in frustration. "I've never been in this situation before. It's annoying the fuck out of me."

"How about we take them back home, instead of hanging about here?" suggested Taylor. "Dad could do with a shower, and I'm pretty sure I need one too."

Janesha nodded. "Yeah, okay."

* * *

 **Danny**

* * *

Half an hour later, Danny was sitting in the armchair while Janesha shared the sofa with the two ex-supervillains. They were still in what he privately called 'zombie mode', under Janesha's direct control. He knew they were in no way dangerous, but that didn't stop them from being creepy as hell. Which was why he was only watching TV with half his attention, the other half taken up with the young woman and the girl on his sofa.

Upstairs, Taylor had apparently finished her shower because the water stopped running. Then there were footsteps along the corridor to the top of the stairs. "Hey, Janesha!"

"What?" Janesha called out in reply.

"You're a shifter, yeah? You can make stuff?"

"Sure. What do you want made?"

"Can you make a bird or something that can _find_ Sagun for you?"

Janesha's eyes opened wide. "Oh, for fuck's sake," she muttered, then raised her voice. "Taylor, you're a genius. I can definitely do that."

By the time Taylor came down from upstairs, Janesha had gone outside and gotten a rock from the failing garden. In her hands was now a tiny silver bird, with a wingspan maybe three inches across. "Okay, testing." She held up her hand with the bird perching on it. "Begin message. General Tagg makes other mortals look bad. End message."

A second or so passed, then the bird opened its tiny beak. _"General Tagg makes other mortals look bad."_

"Perfect." Janesha looked pleased with herself. "Resetting … okay. Recording message." Stretching her arm out, she plucked the remote from Danny's chair arm and put the sound on mute. "Begin message. Greetings to Sagun from Janesha of Mystal. Just so you know, we've ended the Slaughterhouse Nine and killed everyone but Bonesaw and Burnscar. I've depowered both of those, but they need extensive therapy, so I was hoping you would be okay with me sending them over to Cousin Col. I just wanted to check with you before I went through with it. End message."

Danny watched as the tiny construct fluttered up from Janesha's finger, flew in a tight circle, then vanished in a straight line toward what he judged to be the south. In doing so, it passed clear through the wall without leaving a mark.

"Wow. I didn't expect something that quick," Taylor said, going into the kitchen and bringing a chair out. "Going through walls is kind of cheaty, but why not. How's it actually going to find him?"

Janesha stretched her arms out with her fingers interlaced, and cracked her knuckles. "He's the only other celestial in this realm. I told it to ignore me and find a celestial aura. When he gets it, he can either come find me or send it back with a message of his own." She looked quite pleased with herself.

"Which reminds me," Taylor said, looking suddenly pensive. She turned the chair around and sat on it backwards, resting her arms across the top of the back. "Sagun's not the one who mindwiped Eidolon, is he?"

That got her a frown from Janesha. "Well, no, I guess not. For the longest time, I thought he was, but if he's from Highborn Hellion stock he probably doesn't even have any bender blood in him." She paused, and her frown deepened. "Shit. Now I see what you're getting at. If it wasn't him … _who was it_?"

"Would any members of your family be more interested in trolling you than making you come home?" asked Danny practically. "You know, prankster types?"

"Well, my cousin Nuncio _is_ a prankster type, and I can see him pulling this sort of crap on me, except for the stuff that happened to Edeena. Nobody I know would be onboard with that shit. Which means it's not one of us." Janesha pulled on her lower lip. "The weird thing is, when Cousin Col was in Earth Bet, she didn't mention any other celests in the realm."

"Would she have even noticed them?" Taylor sounded a little dubious. "I mean, is it line of sight like the other abilities?"

"Pfft, nope," chuckled Janesha. "Cousin Col's the first Weaver, and by far the most powerful. She can feel emotions all the way out to the boundary of a realm. If anyone had a vested interest in stopping us from finding out about them—say, by mindwiping Eidolon—then she would've found them in a heartbeat, and probably sent someone after them to fetch 'em back. That didn't happen, so whoever it was wasn't in the realm at the time. Which only makes it weirder."

"Shit!" exclaimed Taylor. "When we got depowered! I bet it was the other celest, not Sagun! He never had a reason to do it, and Eidolon wasn't the hybrid we thought he was!"

"And I'd bet a large amount of money they were behind whoever blew Coil's head off when you were going after him," Danny added. "All the crap that's been happening behind the scenes, that wasn't bad luck. That was someone else playing to their own agenda. I've seen it far too many times before."

"Should we warn him?" Taylor looked worried. "If he's not the bad guy, what if the bad guy comes after him?"

Janesha nodded. "Couldn't hurt."

* * *

 **Sagun**

* * *

Floating cross-legged in midair, the golden man frowned. Alexandria, otherwise known as Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown, had known little more than Doctor Mother and the Number Man. He had taken the time to leave a construct in her office, a physical double of her that would 'die' of a simulated heart attack in several hours' time, so that the mortals of this world would not hinder him in his search. But look as he might, no group of mortals matched the descriptions of Contessa, the Clairvoyant and Doormaker.

So he'd decided to do something else until a clue popped up. Specifically, catch up on his reading. He'd been out of the loop for nearly thirty years. _Thirty years_ worth of comic back issues to read!

It had been almost child's play to locate a comic store which still held copies going back to when he'd first come to Earth Bet. And now, as the store ebbed and flowed with more customers than the shop had seen in years, he floated in midair with comics suspended around him, their pages turning of their own accord. It occurred to him that Earlafaol comic book companies probably had a far greater output than what he was reading right now, and that alone almost convinced him to seek out Lady Janesha and ask her to contact Lady Columbine on the instant … _but no. I have a job to do, and I can't do it from there. These will have to do for me right now._

Just as he was getting into the latest multi-issue arc, a flash of silver caught his eye. Turning his head and slowing his personal time rate, he saw that a small silver bird had come in _through_ the wall of the shop, arrowing its way directly toward him, moving faster than any avian had a right to. As he looked more closely, he saw that its wings were not moving.

Just for a moment, Sagun suspected an attack of sorts. But his combat sense immediately informed him that there was no danger inherent in the bird-shaped construct, so he relaxed. It flew around his head once, then landed on his shoulder.

"So what are you?" he wondered. "Why are you here?"

As if it had heard him—and maybe it had—it answered his question, in a way.

Opening its beak, it spoke in familiar tones. " _Greetings to Sagun from Janesha of Mystal,_ " it said. _"Just so you know, we've ended the Slaughterhouse Nine and killed everyone but Bonesaw and Burnscar. I've depowered both of those, but they need extensive therapy, so I was hoping you would be okay with me sending them over to Cousin Col. I just wanted to check with you before I went through with it._ "

He pursed his lips. He kinda wanted to get mad over the destruction of the Nine, but really, they'd just been a bunch of derivative villains anyway. The only way they could've been any more edgelord Nineties would be if he'd had them wearing pouches everywhere and carrying unfeasibly large guns. And he was feeling too good about Edeena being okay (even if she was _there_ and he was _here_ ) to be upset with Janesha.

Putting his hand on the bird, he figured out how to erase the message and replace it with one of his own. "Sure," he said idly. "But just those two." A tap of his finger on the bird's head sent it flying northward again, passing through the wall of the shop once more.

He didn't even care that phone cameras all around were clicking almost nonstop as he turned back toward his array of comics. That, of course, was when the _golden_ bird came through the wall.

 _Okay, what does she want now?_ he wondered. _She can't have any more mortals. It's the principle of the thing._

The bird landed on his shoulder, and its beak opened. This time, Janesha sounded somewhat more flustered. " _If you haven't caught up with Contessa, Doormaker or the Clairvoyant now, it's probably because one or more of them is a celestial. Dunno where from, but there's a ranged mindbender involved. Just thought you should know."_

The comic books fell to the floor. Unmindful of the store owner's pained cry, Sagun extended his legs down until he was standing. He stared at the golden bird. Alexandria had said it was Contessa's idea to feed bits of Edeena to everyone. Up until now, he'd taken it as a bloodthirsty idea from a stupid mortal. Now ...

"Fucking **_WHAT_**?"

* * *

End of Part Twenty-One


	23. Chapter 22

**Celestial Worm**

* * *

Part 22: Danger Close

* * *

 _[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]_

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

The golden bird returned, the same way it had gone. Taylor watched as it came through the wall, circled Janesha once, then landed on her shoulder. And then, between one eyeblink and the next, Sagun was there as well.

"What the hell do you mean, one of them's a celestial mindbender?" he demanded. "When were you going to fill me in on _that_ little tiny detail?"

"I just did," Janesha said. "For fuck's sake, _chill._ We only pieced that all together a few minutes ago. Well, okay, it was Taylor who figured it out."

Sagun's attention turned to Taylor. "Are you certain about this? I mean, really certain?"

Taylor swallowed to get over her nerves. "As sure as I can be. When Janesha was trying to catch up to you, we realised a celestial was messing with us so we thought it was you. Then, when she was interrogating Eidolon, a mindbender wiped information out of his mind and we thought it was you again. Once we found Cauldron and called Lady Col in and you turned up, we were too busy to think about all the aspects of the situation. But afterward, while we were dealing with Bonesaw and Burnscar, I thought about it and realised that it couldn't have been you after all. So there's another celest around here somewhere. Maybe two or three. And they're hiding."

"Well, no, of _course_ it wasn't me." He paused. "What do you mean, hiding?"

"We _mean_ , keeping out of plain sight," Janesha said. "There's no power in Creation that can keep people off Lady Columbine's Weaver senses if she's in the same realm, so they must've ducked out of the realm when she showed up. Otherwise, with the fact that they clearly aren't friendly toward us, she would've let us know, and probably sent a few gryps to bring 'em back."

"And you think it's the Cauldron members who've dropped out of sight." Sagun grimaced. "What do you think they're doing here?"

"Nothing good." Janesha rubbed her chin. "It can't be anything to do with me, because I only just got here, and you and Edeena have been here for what, thirty years?"

"Near enough," agreed Sagun. "It can't just be because we showed up. I mean, if they'd said this was their realm and to move along, we would've. The last thing we wanted to do was pick a fight with other celestials."

"Wait a second," Taylor objected. "Janesha, didn't you tell me it takes centuries or millennia to draw a boundary around a realm? Sagun, how long did it take you, if you've only been here thirty years?"

Sagun looked at Janesha, then at Taylor. "Only about six months. Why? What do you mean, centuries?"

" _Six months_?" exploded Janesha. "You've got to be shitting me! This isn't exactly a huge realm, but it's not that tiny either! How in the name of the Twin Notes did you do it so fast?"

"Oh, it was easy." Sagun shrugged. "We just followed the one that was … already … there …"

A long silence followed the trailing off of his voice, then he and Janesha face-palmed in perfect unison. He turned to her, and in a voice that begged to be proven wrong, asked quietly, "We redrew our line over someone else's boundary, didn't we?"

"Ya think?" She looked him dead in the eye. "Of all the fucking idiots!"

"So why is it that they _haven't_ shown up in the meantime to give Sagun his marching orders?" asked Danny. "Or even in the beginning? Would they have even known he was there?"

"Well, they knew Lady Col was coming, so I'd be astonished if they didn't … wait a minute." Taylor held up a finger. "They _knew Lady Col was coming."_

"Well, yes," Janesha said. "We've already established that. What's your point?"

Taylor shook her head. "No, no, no. How did they know they should get out of the realm to avoid being detected by her Weaver power?"

"The one called the Clairvoyant was probably listening in on you," Sagun offered, his tone all but saying _duh_. "The one called Doormaker's probably the one—"

"No, no," Taylor interrupted him, clenching her fists on either side of her head. "Even if they heard the name 'Columbine', _how did they know to leave?_ How did they know ahead of time she'd be able detect them once she got here? Because I can guarantee nobody was _thinking_ about it before Janesha made the blood-link."

"They know her," Danny said into the silence that followed. "They know her, and they consider her to be the enemy. Somehow."

Janesha shook her head. "That's ridiculous. Nobody hates Cousin Col. I mean, you guys have _met_ her. Could _you_ hate her?"

"Well, true," Taylor conceded. She looked at her father. "You should meet her sometime. She takes 'nice' and turns it into an art form. If she's got an enemy, it's because they don't know her."

"They could be scared of her," ventured Sagun. He frowned as everyone looked at him, but continued. "If they know she's Mystallian, and they think Mystallians have something against them …" He paused. "Wait. If they were hybrids, and they knew of her Weaver ability, and they were scared that she'd treat them the same way all celestials treat hybrids, would _that_ be a good reason for them to duck and cover?"

"How do celestials treat hybrids?" asked Danny. "Why would they be scared?"

"Your average celestial will kill any hybrid he encounters," Janesha said, her voice flat and hard. "Because they're dangerous as _fuck_."

"If they can be killed by the average celestial, they can't be all that dangerous," Danny said. "Or am I missing something? Because this is starting to sound just a little bit racist."

"Not on their own, not usually," conceded Janesha. "But here's how it goes. Hybrids have the vigor and lifespan of a celestial and the rate of breeding of a mortal. Power for power, they can't stand up to the average celestial. _But._ Because they have both a mortal soul and a celestial component, they can believe in _themselves_ , and end up with near-godly power. Which works anywhere, because they are their own worshipper."

"As opposed to any other god, who leaves their power behind when they go to another realm." Danny nodded. "I got that."

"Good." Janesha took a deep breath. "So. Imagine this. Some god decides he wants to invade the next realm over. So he goes down and impregnates ten thousand mortal women. Twenty years later, a long weekend by our standards, he's got ten thousand hybrid warriors. He trains each of them to believe that they _and their brothers_ are immortal, impervious to damage, can throw fire from their fingertips, fly through the air, whatever. One day later, the next realm over is facing a wave of ten thousand soldiers, any ten of which can surround and pull down any one celestial and hack them to pieces." She paused for a beat. "That shit has happened at least once. Maybe more. So now, hybrids are destroyed whenever they're found."

"Holy shit," murmured Taylor, rubbing her arms. "That sounds terrifying. Even if a hybrid just wants to be left alone …"

"… nobody can take the chance," Janesha finished.

"But when you thought Eidolon was a hybrid, you were gonna leave him alone," Taylor pointed out.

"Wait, you thought _Eidolon_ was a hybrid?" Sagun stared at Janesha. "Whose kid did you think _he_ was?"

Janesha and Taylor looked back at him. It took him a moment to get it.

"What?" He shook his head. "Oh, _hell_ no! That big-nosed git? You thought he was _mine_? No, whatever he had, it wasn't from me."

"We know that _now_ ," Janesha said ruefully. "It just sounded good at the time."

"Okay, all that aside, celestials kill hybrids because they _might_ be a danger." Danny put a certain pitch and spin on the word. "In my experience, the quickest way to ensure someone becomes dangerous is to treat them like they're expected to become dangerous. But I'm not going to try to dictate policy to a bunch of celestials. I prefer to go my entire life without being struck by lightning, thank you very much."

"Wow, way to profile us, Danny Hebert," Janesha said with a snort. "Not every celestial uses lightning to smite mortals. Lord Poseidon uses really big waves, for instance. And Lord Loki would pull pranks on you that would make you _wish_ you were merely struck by lightning."

"Yeah, yeah, we got it." Taylor looked at Sagun. "So you think the other celestials might actually be hybrids, hiding from you and Janesha and Lady Columbine because of the intolerance?"

"It's the only explanation that makes any kind of sense," Sagun confirmed. His expression hardened. "Of course, they _also_ kept Edeena prisoner and fed bits of her to mortals to give them powers, so I'm not exactly mindful to be forgiving to them."

"People do very rash things when they're scared," Danny observed. "Not excusing their actions in the slightest, but can you imagine being them, going about their business, when in pops a celestial? They can't run and hide fast enough, so they attack and subdue her. They don't want to kill her, or maybe they can't, so the next best thing they can think of is to carve away pieces of her essence and store it in mortals. Stupid, cruel, and entirely uncalled for, but that's panic for you."

"Panic?" hissed Janesha, flames entirely overtaking her eyesockets. " _Panic?_ Once, I can imagine. Twice, even. But _over and over for thirty years?_ That's not panic, Danny. That's systematic torture."

"Humans have done worse to each other for a lot longer, and for even less valid reasons." Danny's voice was quiet. "It's not justified. They need to be punished for it. I was just trying to figure out _why_."

"I don't need to know _why_ ," the young celestial snapped. "I just need to know _who_ and _where._ So me and Sagun can go and beat their asses."

"I thought you were tolerant toward hybrids," objected Taylor.

"This's got nothing to do with intolerance toward hybrids," Janesha snarled. "It's got everything to do with intolerance toward asshole douchebags who think it's a good idea to cut up a fellow celestial and feed her to mortals."

"Well. we've dismantled their organisation and we know what they look like, so that's a start," Taylor ventured, trying to bring the conversation down to a more comfortable level.

"Unless they're shifters as well as benders," Sagun noted. "If they've got people around them as camouflage and they're wearing other faces, it would be really tricky to pick them out."

Janesha gave him the finger. "Yeah, thanks for giving them ideas, smart guy. You know they're almost certainly listening in on us right now."

"So what was that about calling them asshole douchebags earlier?" asked Taylor. "If they're listening now, they were listening then."

"That's different." Janesha glanced around the room, as if expecting to find the members of Cauldron hiding behind the sofa. "I want 'em to know I think they're the scum of creation, and that I _will_ be coming after them. They're scared of Mystallians? I'll give 'em a realm-damned reason to be."

"Um, okay, but before you go off on your roaring rampage of revenge, how about we get these two sorted out?" Taylor indicated Bonesaw and Burnscar. "I'm pretty sure Dad doesn't want them sitting on the couch for the next week."

"If we could get them off my couch in the next ten minutes, I'll be even happier," Danny responded.

Janesha sighed. "Fine. We'll do that _first_."

* * *

 **Contessa**

* * *

"Can we go back yet?"

Fortuna reached out without looking and backhanded Dorian so that his head bounced off the wall behind him. "Not until I say so. Clare?"

Sitting across from them in the corner table of the inn, chosen because of the depth of the shadows there, Clare concentrated. "Scion's reading comic books. The little Mystallian cow's just finished off the Nine with her two mortal pets. No, wait, they left two alive."

"Get. To. The. Point," gritted Fortuna. She knew it wasn't time to go back yet, but she wanted to know _why._

"Ah. Yeah, she's going to depower them, then hand them over to the 'faolian bitch." If Clare could've rolled his eyes, he would have. "I don't even get that. Why keep them alive?"

"All right then." Fortuna didn't bother trying to answer the question. Janesha had clearly been infected by the mortals. Leaving an enemy alive behind you was the height of idiocy. It was why the Mystallians were going to lose. They were too soft-hearted. "Let me know when it's over and done."

Raising her hand, she beckoned the serving wench over. It was easy to make the woman believe that she'd already been paid, and bring more drinks over. What happened to the wench once the innkeeper discovered that she'd been supplying them with free drinks all evening wasn't even remotely her problem.

The drink was a little rough on the throat but it had a rich, full taste. Not that it had the slightest chance of getting any of them drunk, of course. But it was as good a way to pass the time as any other.

"So Cauldron's a wash," ventured Dorian after they'd half-emptied their second round of drinks. "Eidolon's dead, Alexandria's dead, Number Man's dead, Doctor Mother …"

"I fucking _know_ they're all dead. I'm the one who told you," retorted Clare snappishly. "The only— _urk_!"

"Talk to me in that tone again and I'll rip your throat out," Dorian said, his hand around Clare's neck. Talons emerged from his fingertips and sank into the soft flesh behind Clare's windpipe. "Give me a reason. _Please._ "

"Let him go," Fortuna said after taking another drink. "The only what?"

The wounds left in Clare's throat closed up a moment after Dorian released him, leaving blood trails down his neck. He ignored them. "The only one left of that bunch is Legend, and he knew barely half the shit the rest were up to. Scion's decided to wimp out and be Janesha's friend, so now we're gonna need a new bunch of patsies. But who the fuck is left on that realms-forsaken rock that's powerful enough to kill her?"

The idea unfolded in Fortuna's head so neatly and cleanly that she could only wonder how long it had been germinating. "Scion," she said softly.

Dorian and Clare looked at her. Or rather, Dorian looked at her and Clare turned his face in her direction, the grimy rag still covering his eyesockets. "I don't understand," Dorian said eventually, his voice carefully pitched to not sound disbelieving. "Are we going to puppet him? Because—"

"You're not _listening_ ," Fortuna interrupted. She glanced at the other people in the inn, imparting to them the understanding that _nothing unusual_ was happening at the corner table. Then her features began to shift. Pulling mass from the table, she bulked out in her seat and altered her clothing until Scion himself sat before them. When she spoke, her voice was a couple of octaves lower. "Scion can kill her."

Dorian's eyes widened as he finally got the idea. Clare's jaw dropped. They looked at each other, then back at her.

"She won't even see it coming," Dorian realised. "Because they're all _friendly_ now." He made the word sound disgusting. Which to them, it was. Friendship didn't have a place in their world. It made a celestial weak, vulnerable to being stabbed in the back. They valued it in others, though. It made it easier for a stab in the back when the time came.

"She might," murmured Fortuna, changing back to her original form. "We can't guarantee that she won't see through the disguise at the last minute. Especially with that mortal pet she keeps lugging around."

The other two nodded. Inconvenient mortal witnesses were the _worst_.

"So we need more patsies, to keep her occupied until it's too late." Clare smiled evilly. "And I've got three that are perfect for our needs."

"Oh, really?" Fortuna leaned forward. "I'm listening."

* * *

 **Two Days Later**

* * *

Christine Mathers fumed silently as she put gasoline into her car. While she'd gotten away from the compound before anyone suspected her powers were gone, there was a good chance that they were coming after her now. Just as she'd never gone easy on anyone who wanted to cut ties with the Fallen, neither would they give her a break.

The worst thing was, she still had no idea who'd done it, and how to go about getting them back. For all her online digging on motel wi-fi … nothing. She was at a dead end, and she knew it. And if they caught her, she'd go straight in with the breeders.

 _Fuck that._

She knew all too well that if Elijah was with her pursuers when they caught up, fighting wouldn't even be an option. So she just had to not get caught before she got her powers back.

Walking inside, she approached the counter. It grated at her that she actually had to pay _money_ to these walking wastes of oxygen and genetic material. However, she knew that driving off without paying was a prime way to get caught and pinned down into one place. So she prepared to part with a little more of her dwindling resources, just so she could get a little farther.

It was only when she got to the counter that she realised that the attendant was absent on some task or another. Hissing breath between her teeth in exasperation, she settled down to wait. Every minute was a minute that the pursuit grew closer.

Idly glancing down at the counter, she felt a chill race up her spine. A padded envelope sat there, with her name scrawled across it in cheap marker. Not even 'Christine' but 'Mama Mathers'. Eyes widening, she stared around her, looking for the trap. Had they gotten here ahead of her?

When she looked back at the counter, the envelope was still there, and she heard a noise in the back room. Grabbing up the envelope, she shoved it in her bag. The attendant, a young woman, emerged and said, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'd like to pay for gas." If the woman wasn't going to mention the envelope, neither was Christine.

The attendant hit buttons and told her it would be thirty-one forty. Not even caring about the money now, she paid. What was in the envelope?

Back in the car, she drove for a few miles then pulled off into a side-road, moving until she was fully out of sight of the highway. Then she pulled the envelope out of the bag. Careful pressing with her fingertips revealed that whatever was in it was a few inches long and cylindrical.

Her heart rate quickened, and she tore the end off the envelope, then fished out the contents. It was a vial, not the same as the one she'd gotten from Cauldron back in the day, but containing a murky fluid all the same. Holding up the envelope, she looked inside to see if there was anything more, and found a piece of paper, folded once. Once she got it out and unfolded it, her eyes widened again.

THE PERSON RESPONSIBLE IS JANESHA OF MYSTAL.

SHE LIVES IN BROCKTON BAY.

KILL HER AND ALL YOUR PROBLEMS GO AWAY.

Barely able to keep her hands stead, she shook up the vial (she remembered that much) and then downed the contents. They burned all the way down; that was also something she recalled.

The next bit wasn't fun, either. But then, it hadn't been, the first time around.

* * *

 **William Manton**

* * *

"I'm hungry."

The soft voice of the woman in the passenger seat nearly went unheard, but William knew what she'd said. More and more, he was beginning to regret picking her up, but she was a part of the old team.

The last part, if the news report was anything to go by. After William's powers had deserted him, someone had cornered Jack and the rest of the crew and … destroyed them. The TV in the diner they'd shared a meal in, a hundred miles back, had shown teasing shots of Jack lying with a look of utter incomprehension with a gaping hole in his chest.

William knew about holes like that. As the Siberian, he had caused all too many of them. Someone had punched their hand into Jack's chest and torn his heart out in one piece. It was a lot harder to do than most people thought, even for Brutes. The protective sac and the veins and arteries and connective tissue made it very hard to pull off … unless, as once had applied to him, physics was optional.

"We have to save money for gas," he said. "There should be some jerky in the glove compartment."

She wrinkled her nose in discontent. "How old is it?"

"Does it matter?" In a sealed pack, jerky survived forever. "It's something to eat."

"It's something to _chew_."

"It's all we've got right now."

With a huff of unhappiness, she opened the glove compartment, then stopped. "What's this?"

"What's what?" He didn't look around. Right now, he didn't even want to look at her. _If she's going to complain about the brand of jerky, I swear to god, I will pull over right now and throw her out of the damn van._

"This." She held up something yellow and square in his peripheral vision. "It's got our names on it."

Now he turned his head and saw what she was talking about. It was a padded envelope, with SIBERIAN & SHATTERBIRD on it.

"What the hell? Where did you get that from?"

"The glove compartment!" She pointed at him accusingly. "Where you told me to look!"

"It wasn't there the last time I looked!" He turned his attention back to the road and pulled off into a gas station parking lot. "What's in it?"

" _I_ don't know!" She held it out at arm's length, gripping it with her fingertips at two corners as though she was terrified it might bite. "What if it's a bomb? What if Jack left it in there in case you ever decided to abandon him?"

He snorted. "Don't be an idiot. Jack didn't know about me." At least, he _thought_ Jack hadn't. There had been the occasional knowing look at the Siberian, but those could've meant anything. " _You_ certainly didn't. How could he even predict that we would end up surviving his death?"

The look on her face when he'd explained who he was had amused him for _hours_.

"I _suppose_ …" She handed the envelope over to him. "You open it. It was in your glove compartment."

"Fine," he snapped, and grabbed it off her. Tearing open the end, he reached inside and pulled out … two vials, each wrapped in bubble-wrap. On one was written, in the same scrawled hand, SIBERIAN and on the other SHATTERBIRD.

"What …" Her eyes went wide. "Are those …"

Belatedly, he recalled that she'd been slipped her original Cauldron formula without ever seeing the vial. "Yes, they are," he said. "Do you want yours?"

Almost reluctantly, she reached out and took the one with her name on it. "Are you going to take yours?"

"I'm not sure," William said, though he knew he was lying. "Are you?"

"Will they give us the same powers?"

He gave that question the sneer it deserved. "How in God's name am I supposed to know that? I studied the things, I didn't colour-code them."

"Oh." She gave the liquid a little shake, watching the sediment swirl around. "Do they taste bad?"

"They taste utterly horrific," he said with a nasty chuckle. "It's a good thing you haven't eaten anything. This way you haven't got anything to throw up."

"Oh." She grimaced. "What happens if you only drink part of one?"

He rolled his eyes. "Imagine if that vial you're holding allowed you to burst into flames and fly through the air. Now imagine that you only drink the part that allows you to burst into flames, not the bit that protects you from the flames you are generating." He'd seen almost exactly that happen, more than once. It hadn't been pretty.

"Okay, all or nothing then." She took a deep breath, looking at the vial. "I just want to know _why_."

"Why what?" he asked, shaking up his vial.

"Why we've been given them. What's the point? What does whoever gave them to us get out of this?"

That was actually a valid question. He paused his preparations and looked into the envelope. Within was a piece of paper which, when unfolded, had three lines of writing on it.

THE PERSON RESPONSIBLE IS JANESHA OF MYSTAL.

SHE LIVES IN BROCKTON BAY.

KILL HER AND ALL YOUR PROBLEMS GO AWAY.

"Hmm …" He showed her the note. "Does that answer your question?"

"I suppose," she answered. "So now we have to kill someone?"

"Do you have a problem with killing someone to make all your problems go away?" he asked facetiously.

She snorted with laughter and shook up her vial. "Not a one."

"Good." He copied her motion, then worked the cork free. The contents of the vial didn't smell any better than they normally did. "Ready?"

Nodding seriously, she opened her vial as well. "Ready."

"Cheers." He tipped the vial back, emptying its contents down his throat.

"Cheers."

* * *

 **A Day After That**

* * *

"I seriously do _not_ believe I can't find any other celestials in this realm!" Janesha stomped back and forth in the living room while Taylor sat on the sofa, watching her. "Even when I use the trick you thought of, nothing happens!"

"Well. you've only been at it a couple of days," Taylor reminded her. "After Cloudstrike kicked a hole in her stable wall, she needed that good long ride you gave her."

Taylor shuddered. The neighbours had been convinced that a minor earthquake had happened. Fortunately, Janesha had been able to repair the damage. Even more fortunately, the kick hadn't busted through into the neighbour's basement. Since then, Janesha had taken to sending Cloudstrike out to take flights on her own, knowing the mystallion would come back when she felt like it.

"Yeah, but two days should've easily been enough time." Janesha was still simmering. "And your trick should've worked!"

"Well, I only suggested it because the birds worked," Taylor said. "How come they did and the homing confetti didn't?"

Janesha snorted. "Trust you to give it a name like that."

In theory, it had been a simple idea. Janesha had created hundreds of tiny paperlike discs and given them all two simple properties. They were to travel directly toward any attuned celestials who weren't Sagun, and send back a signal once they reached that celestial.

In practice, Janesha had tossed the confetti into the air and the pieces had fluttered to the ground. In accordance to the 'programming' she'd given them, once they reached the floor and stopped moving, they all sent back a signal. This had not improved her mood, especially by the third failed attempt.

"Okay, is there a chance they're not attuned?" asked Taylor. "Maybe that's why it's not working."

"Petal, they made that boundary a lot more than thirty years ago. A realm this size? They're attuned." Janesha shook her head. "Unless they're jumping out of the realm every time I do anything that might find them … but they'd find that really annoying. I know I would. Anyway, I've been leaving the confetti active. Either they're out of the realm and staying that way, or they've got a workaround."

"Okay, you're the celestial and not me." Taylor looked questioningly at her friend. "Is there any way you can be attuned but suppress it?"

Janesha snorted. "Hardly. Attuned is _attuned._ You might as well carry around a lit flashlight at night. I mean, a seclusion ring would _do_ it, but nobody in their right mind does it because it also suppresses … bender … abilities …" Slowly, her voice trailed off and she slapped her own forehead. "Son of a _bitch!_ Fucking _seclusion rings!_ "

"Okay, can we back up a little and remember there's a clueless mortal in the room?" asked Taylor. "What's a seclusion ring, and why didn't you think of one until now?"

"Because ninety-nine times out of a hundred, they're used as a punishment." Janesha ran her hands through her hair. "They utterly negate any bender abilities for the wearer, and prevent benders from even detecting them, let alone affecting them. But they _also_ cut you off from your attunement as a side effect, which sucks. I wasn't even thinking of that until you pointed it out."

"What about the one percent of the time?" Taylor was just curious now. "Why would people wear it if it's not a punishment?"

"To hide. You lose all power except your innate ability, but no one can find you either."

"Oh." Taylor blinked. "So you figure they're all wearing the seclusion rings, to hide from you? Are they hard to get?"

That made Janesha pause. "They're not _easy_ to get, especially if you're a hybrid," she admitted. "But if you're as sneaky as these ones seem to be, it's not impossible either. Anyway, they've either bolted altogether or they're hiding out behind seclusion rings. There's really no third choice."

"And you think they're still here." Taylor raised her eyebrows. "Why?"

"They're clearly willing to push back from behind the scenes." Janesha flipped her hand casually. "Murdering Coil, mindwiping Eidolon, depowering you and your dad. If they weren't invested in this place, they would've folded their tents and snuck off into the night the moment they realised I was here. Hell, they would've done it the second they knew Sagun and Edeena were in the realm. But they've put a lot of effort into maintaining their grip on the place."

"You think maybe destroying Cauldron will make them change their minds?" asked Taylor. "Convince them that it's too much trouble to stay here?"

"Pfft, no." Janesha shook her head. "Those idiots were just mortals. To people like that, mortals are basically interchangeable. I'll admit that losing their own private essence well is gonna sting 'em a bit, but you know we don't need that to give mortals power. You're as tough as they come, and you didn't nom down on any bits of celestial."

Taylor shuddered. "Thank goodness. Though the powers I _do_ have are from Sagun's side of things, right?"

"Yup." Janesha grinned. "They're all consensual."

Crossing her eyes, Taylor stuck her tongue out at her friend. "That sounds dirty and wrong. He's older than Dad."

"Hey, you're the one whose mind went there. And ninety-nine point nine percent of all celestials you're ever going to meet are older than human civilization on Earlafaol. Age differences aren't really frowned on, once someone reaches adulthood. Hell, anyone who's less than a thousand is considered to be in my age group."

Taylor couldn't argue with that, so she cut back to the original question. "So if they're wearing seclusion rings, how do we find them?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, petal. There is no shortcut." Janesha shook her head in frustration. "We can keep looking, but if they've got any shifter blood at all, they can be wearing any face they like. The absolute only way I'm gonna find them is if they do something stupid, which they haven't done yet, or if I literally run into them on the street and try to mindbend them and it doesn't work."

Taylor blinked. _Wait, is it that easy?_

"You're right," she said. "It looks like they're smarter than the both of us put together." Lifting her hand casually, she tapped the side of her forehead.

A moment later, the living room shifted and reformed into … well, the living room. "Okay, we're in your head," Janesha said, raising her eyebrows. "What bright idea have you come up with now?"

"Okay, you can create constructs, right? Can you make a construct that's more or less impossible to see, hear or feel? Like an invisible speck of dust?"

"Sure," Janesha said cautiously. "But why?"

"So you make six billion of them, and tell them to seek out every person on earth. Every last living person. They wouldn't differentiate between celests and humans, correct?"

Janesha frowned. "I can't see why they would. Especially if I gave it such broad range. So what's this construct supposed to do?"

"Every time one of these smart dust particles lands on a new person, it tries to do a basic touch-mindbend on them. Look into their memory from one second ago, or something as trivial as that. And if it _can't_ , it sends a signal back to you, showing its exact location."

For almost twenty seconds, Janesha stared at her. Then she facepalmed. "Mother _fucker!"_ she snarled. "Taylor, are you _sure_ you're not a really, really sneaky celestial? I would never have thought of something like that in a million fucking years. And no, I'm not exaggerating for effect there."

Taylor felt a flush of pleasure and she tried to hide a smile. "I guess it's part of the mortal condition. We don't have all the extra capabilities that a celest gets, so we have to figure out workarounds."

"Yeah, got it." Janesha frowned. "I'm _mostly_ sure I can make it so the dust motes don't get detected by celestial senses, but the instant they light up and transmit back to me, they'll be picked up. If they've got any shifter ability, they'll be able to destroy the dust motes more or less instantly, so I'll only get a flicker of a signal. _And_ they'll know they've been pinged, so they'll be on their guard. Plus, they'll probably move to another location. But this'll give me a really good starting point."

Taylor grinned. "Cool. So, how are we doing this?"

"Hmm." Janesha scratched her chin for a moment. "Okay, how about this. We go out for a stroll on the boardwalk. I release the dust particles. As soon as we get a signal, I realm-step there and get in their faces while you get a bus home."

"Whoa, whoa, time out." Taylor tapped the palm of one hand on the fingertips of the other. "Great plan, right up until you got to the part about going on without me. We're a _team_ , in case you hadn't noticed."

"You're a _mortal_ , in case you hadn't noticed." Janesha grimaced at the expression on Taylor's face. "Look, petal, there'll be three maybe-celests right there. I'm not sure if I can deal with them and protect you at the same time."

"I'm damn sure you can't deal with them and watch your back at the same time," Taylor snapped. "You said they're hybrids, right? They'll have seclusion rings on, so they won't be able to do bender shit, and I can hurt them if I punch them because of intent. That just leaves shifter shenanigans. Can you handle a hybrid in a shifting contest? More to the point, can you handle _three_ hybrids in a shifting contest?"

"One, yeah." Janesha's jaw firmed. "Three … that might be pushing it a little."

"So bring in Sagun," Taylor said promptly. "Two full celests plus one improved mortal versus three hybrids. _And_ he's attuned, and probably established, given all the damn powers he has—"

"Yeah, he's established." Slowly, Janesha nodded. "And yeah, he'll jump at that in a heartbeat. Okay, as soon as we get to where they are, I'll let a bird go, telling him where we are and to get his golden ass to our location."

"Sounds like a plan," Taylor said happily. "Let's do it."

Janesha dropped them out of the internalisation. Three seconds later, the windows blew in.

* * *

 **Contessa  
** **A Little Earlier**

* * *

"Okay, they're heading toward Brockton Bay, and they've all got motel rooms," Clare said. "What do we do now?"

Fortuna finished prepping the second envelope. "Dorian, give me a doorway to the middle of each room, letterbox sized. Work with Clare to make sure they'll see these when they go through."

"I love it when you pull shit like this," Dorian said with an evil grin. "What's in them?"

"Pictures of the Hebert house, and a warning to get ready." Fortuna shrugged. "This way, they don't ever see our faces, so if anyone mindbends them, we're some random people who pointed them at Janesha. No faces, and no hint of who we really are."

 _Just the way we like it,_ she didn't bother saying. She knew they were both thinking it.

Dorian nodded. "And in a couple of minutes, give them Doorways to the house?"

 _"Now_ you're getting it. Now shut the fuck up and give me the openings to put these things through."

Reaching out, Dorian took Clare's hand. Fortuna knew they could form the link without touching, but it was easier this way. A moment later, two slots appeared in the air in front of her; without a moment's hesitation, she slid a letter through each one in turn. The slots vanished again.

"Now we wait?" asked Dorian.

Fortuna nodded. "Now we wait until Clare tells us they've read both letters."

* * *

 **Mama Mathers**

* * *

Christine stretched out on the bed, ignoring the musty cheap-motel smell. For her it was free rather than cheap, for which she'd ignore quite a lot of problems. She also had a lot more money than she'd had earlier, thanks to the oh-so-helpful guy at the front counter.

The vial hadn't restored her powers exactly, which was a pain. Still, it was a pain she could deal with. She could still access peoples' senses once she'd been noticed by them, but instead of messing with those senses she could force them to do things, and she had the choice of letting them remember it or erasing it from their memory. Thus, the shithead at the front counter had opened the cash drawer and handed over all the big bills there, then closed it and not remembered a damn thing about it, much less handing the room key over to her.

To cover that little peccadillo, she intended to wait until he went home that night and make him slaughter his family in various inventive ways, and force him to remember everything. That should drive him far enough out of his mind to forget all about checking room forty-three.

Closing her eyes, she pictured his anguish and smiled lazily. _Oh, I missed being able to reach out and fuck with people._

Something hit her in the middle of the stomach, and her eyes popped open again. "Hey, what the hell?" As she half sat up, an envelope slid off her stomach onto the bed. She looked around with some confusion, wondering if some asshole had taped the envelope to the ceiling or something.

Then she looked at the envelope proper, and saw her name scrawled in the same marker pen as before. This had been done by whoever had left the vial of powers for her. She had a better idea of who it was, now.

Theoretically, anyone could've left that padded envelope for her. But she knew of only a few people who both had access to power vials and could teleport envelopes into thin air. And those people were both unforgiving of mistakes and had been wiped from her internal database of people she could fuck with using her powers.

Which meant she was stuck following their directives for the moment. This was slightly galling, but for the moment she was good with it. Killing the little bitch who had cost her her powers and (potentially) her place in the Fallen was a worthy objective.

If they wanted to keep using her as a patsy after this, however, there would need to be some changes in the arrangement. _I'm Mama Mathers. I give orders. I don't take them_.

Right now, though, she had an envelope to deal with. Ripping the end off, she shook out a photograph of a house and a simple note. BE READY.

Rolling off the bed, she reached for her shoes.

* * *

 **William Manton**

* * *

 _"Where_ did you say it came from?" Shatterbird was looking at the envelope with extreme suspicion.

William didn't blame her. She'd never interacted with Cauldron in her life. "It got dropped out of a hole in midair. I saw it." He sighed. "That's a trademark move of the people I got my powers from in the first place, and of the people that those who slipped the formula to you in the first place got _your_ powers from. I suspected it was them, but I wasn't sure. Now I know."

"And what does that mean?" Now that she had … well, not _her_ powers back, exactly, but a powerset very like them, she was a lot more confident and willing to question matters. Which was a huge improvement from the whiny child he'd had to endure after the Oregon debacle, but was not something he wanted to deal with right now.

"It means that we open the envelope and do whatever the contents tell us to do." He tore it open, and removed the contents. "Okay, now we know where Janesha is going to be. Get ready."

"For what?" She put her hands on her hips.

He wanted to smack her, but he didn't want to have to kill her, so he refrained. "I don't know for a fact, but I suspect we're going to be going on the attack."

"Oh. You could've said so." She concentrated and _changed_ , becoming a woman made of glass, with a thousand razor-sharp shards orbiting around her. The motel room windows blew in, adding their mass to hers, giving her gorgeous wings.

Manton also changed, his form altering to the black and white striped image of the Siberian that had terrified a nation for a decade. His shape was more androgynous than female in this new incarnation, but he could live with that.

Barely had he finished altering his form when a doorway silently opened before the two of them. Through it, he saw a concrete sidewalk. "Time to earn our keep."

They stepped through onto the driveway of a house in the middle of suburbia. Directly across the street was the structure that they'd been given a photo of. Oddly enough, though he'd been holding both photo and note when they stepped through, neither item was in existence now. Not that it mattered. He knew where their target was.

"You too, huh?"

He and Shatterbird looked around at the voice. It was a wispy-looking woman of uncertain age; he would've taken her as a housewife with extremely unfortunate timing, except for the words and the fact that she was staring across the street with almost unsettling intensity.

"And you are?" he asked bluntly.

"Mama Mathers, of the Fallen. The little _bitch_ in that house over there took my powers away, but now I've got more." It was impossible to miss the bitterness in the woman's voice. "I think we need to go and fuck her up."

Shatterbird smiled. Her voice, when she spoke, was all sharp-edged chandeliers chiming. "Let's do that thing."

They strode across the street, ignoring the possibility of traffic. When they reached the curb, Shatterbird waved her hand and all the windows of the house blew in, filling the interior space with a howling maelstrom of razor shards. William stepped up to the front door and smashed it open without breaking stride. Mama Mathers followed him in, and Shatterbird flew in through a now-open window.

Two teenage girls, apparently unharmed by the barrage of glass splinters, stared back at them. Their clothing looked somewhat the worse for wear, and the rest of the interior of the house had been utterly trashed.

"What the _fuck?"_ yelled the taller girl. She stepped forward to throw a punch at Shatterbird. "This is my _house_ , you _bitch_!"

With a sneer, Shatterbird put her hand up to catch the inexpert blow. The girl's fist shattered her hand and continued through to drive into her torso. Explosive cracks radiated everywhere through her body, and she disintegrated into chunks and shards of glass. With a look of extreme astonishment on her crystalline features, she fell to the floor in bits and pieces. All the floating pieces of glass dropped to the floor.

 _Okay, I was not expecting that result._ William watched as the clothing on both girls reformed itself into pristine quality. "Why did you let that happen?" he snapped.

"I _tried_ to stop it!" Mama Mathers retorted, staring intently at the pair. "They're ignoring my power."

It was time to bring this to a close. "Okay, which one of you is Janesha of Mystal?"

"That'll be me," the darker skinned teen in the black outfit said. "I thought the Siberian was a naked woman, not some twink in a polo shirt."

"Thank you," purred William, and lunged forward. Even with his altered powers, he was able to ignore any and all physical laws that he felt like. It didn't matter how tough this Janesha thought she was, the Siberian was—

* * *

 **Taylor**

* * *

"Eww." Taylor looked down at the headless Siberian, with the head lying a couple of feet away. Like Shatterbird before him, the striped features bore an expression of _no, no, this isn't happening. This doesn't happen to me._ "Did you _have_ to decapitate him with your bare hand? In our living room?"

"I am sick and tired of this shit." Janesha made the blood vanish from her hand, then folded her arms. "The assholes we want to catch up with are nowhere to be found, and fuckwits I never wanted to meet keep popping out of the woodwork. What the fuck was all this in aid of, anyway?"

"Ahem. I think you missed one."

They both looked around, as Sagun stepped in through the front door, his hand around the neck of a struggling woman. She was easily recognisable as the one who'd just tried to control their minds.

"Nice one." Janesha grinned at the golden skinned man. "Who is she, anyway?"

An expression of distaste crossed his features. "Her name's Mama Mathers. She's one of the leaders of the Fallen." He stopped in front of Janesha. "Do you want her, or shall I dispose of her?"

"Fuck it." Janesha waved her hand. "She's yours. Feel free."

"As you wish." Sagun flexed his hand, and there was a distinct _crack._ Mama Mathers stopped struggling, her features going slack. When he let go, she fell to his feet like a puppet with its strings cut. "She was only another mortal, anyway."

Taylor's head came up and she stared at Sagun. That was _not_ how the golden superhero spoke. "Ja—"

Before the second syllable could come out, a blade emerged from Sagun's hand, driving up and through Janesha's armoured skin until it burst out her back, just between her shoulderblades. Taylor's warning turned into a scream, and she went to launch herself forward, but two sets of hands grabbed her from behind, one on the left and one on the right.

"Sh-sh-sh-shhh," whispered a voice in her ear as a hand clamped over her mouth. "Shut up and watch as she dies. As your precious _hero_ kills her."

Desperately, Taylor wrenched at the hands gripping her as blood covered Janesha's costume from the wound in her stomach and cascaded from her mouth. _Come on. Do something. Please._ But the sudden attack had taken the Mystallian off-guard, and she didn't seem to be able to respond. Taylor watched the life dimming in her eyes.

With a vicious grin on his lips, Sagun drew back his other hand, which held a second blade. "Goodbye, you troublesome little—"

With a scream of pure fury, wings spread wide, Cloudstrike burst in through the side of the house. Mere mortal matter gave way to enraged celestial power, and the house burst asunder. Taylor felt her captors' grip torn free, and she tumbled, thrown through the air. But in the midst of the cloud of rubble thrown up by Cloudstrike, she saw Sagun, blade still embedded deep in Janesha's gut, the other blade preparing to decapitate her.

There was just one thing Taylor could do. It was something she'd been told never to do, over and over, but now she had no other choice.

Clasping her hands together, she clenched her eyes shut and _prayed._

 ** _Janesha of Mystal, I have faith in you._**

* * *

End of Part Twenty-Two


End file.
